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Updated: May 16, 2025
Why not wait out the interval which it would take to walk to the corner and back in the little suburban station, read "Env. No. 19," and spare himself? He had certainly done enough to prove that he was a faithful messenger. Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "A chain is no stronger than its weakest link."
It was not; but by the time Cyrus had been ordered twice across the city and once up a sixteen-story building in which the elevator was out of order it was past noon, and he was in a condition to find "Env. No. 7" a very satisfactory one: Go to Café Reynard on Westchester Square. Take seat at table in left alcove. Ask waiter for card of Cornelius Woodbridge, Jr. Before ordering luncheon read Env.
Proceed to box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for matinée "The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env. No. 9. C. W. Jr. The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward the Metropolitan Theatre.
Then his face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why why this can't be " "Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly: Leave Café immediately, without stopping for luncheon, remembering to fee waiter for place retained.
Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of him had been slighted. As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No. 20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering the house.
"Never knew father to do a thing like this before. If it's a joke" his fingers felt the seal of "Env. No. 4" "I might as well find it out at once. Still, father never would joke with a fellow's promise the way he asked it of me. 'My word of honour' that's putting it pretty strong. I'll see it through, of course. My, but I'm getting hungry! It must be near luncheon-time."
Enfolding these was a typewritten paper which read as follows: Go to the reading-room of the Westchester Library. There open Env. No. 1. Remember to hold all instructions secret. C. W., Jr. Cyrus whistled. "That's funny!" he thought. "And it means my date with Harold is off. Well, here goes!"
In it all he could see no purpose, except the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He was a strong boy, or he would have been quite exhausted long before he reached "Env. No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This read: Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read No. 18. C. W., Jr.
At the corner specified he hurriedly tore open No. 3, but found, to his amazement, only the singular direction: Take Suburban Elevated Road for Duane Street Station. From there go to Sentinel Office and secure third edition of yesterday's paper. Open Env. No. 4. C. W. Jr. "Well, what under the sun, moon, and stars did he send me out to Kingston Heights for?" cried Cyrus aloud.
The Café Reynard was a place famous the country over for its cookery. "I think I'll have " he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a laugh "well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me the " Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter.
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