He fairly had
to dig the words out, letter by letter, copying them on an old envelope
until he had the message complete: "_Please notify police to search
Seminole quick_."
West read this over, word by word, again and again. What did it mean? Did
it mean anything? Had it any possible connection with the case in which
he was interested? There was no signature, nothing to guide him; yet in
some way the plea sounded real, was a cry of distress, an appeal for
help. It could be given no other meaning, yet how long had it been lying
there in the alley? Not any great length of time surely, for the polished
silver was far too conspicuous to escape notice. It must have been
dropped during the night, within a very short time of its discovery. But
what did the words signify? "_Notify police_" was clear enough, but
"_search Seminole_" meant absolutely nothing. What was "Seminole"--an
apartment house? A hotel? A saloon? Perhaps the police would know;
evidently the writer so believed, or she would never have used the name
with such confidence. A familiar name to her, she assumed that the police
would have no difficulty in instantly locating the place meant. The haste
with which the message had apparently been written, its short, sharp
words, bespoke urgent need, the consciousness of imminent peril. Plainly
the writer had used the only means at hand in a hurried desperate effort
to gain assistance.
"The police.
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