“No one knows.  Patsy fed him and he went to sleep.  What has happened since we cannot tell.”

The girls then related the experiences of the morning, at which both Uncle John and Arthur looked solemn and uncomfortable.  But Louise said calmly: 

“I think Patsy was quite right.  I wouldn’t have dared such a thing myself, but I’m sure that boy needed a square meal more than anything.  If he dies, that breakfast has merely hastened his end; but if he doesn’t die it will do him good.”

“There’s another possibility,” remarked Uncle John.  “He may be suffering agonies with no one to help him.”

Patsy’s face was white as chalk.  The last hour or two had brought her considerable anxiety and her uncle’s horrible suggestion quite unnerved her.  She stole away to the office and inquired the number of Mr. Jones’ room.  It was on the ground floor and easily reached by a passage.  The girl tiptoed up to the door and putting her ear to the panel listened intently.  A moment later a smile broke over her face; she chuckled delightedly and then turned and ran buck to her friends.

“He’s snoring like a walrus!” she cried triumphantly.

“Are you sure they are not groans?” asked Arthur.

“Pah!  Can’t I recognize a snore when I hear it?  And I’ll bet it’s the first sound sleep he’s had in a month.”

Mr. Merrick and Arthur went to the door of the boy’s room to satisfy themselves that Patsy was not mistaken, and the regularity of the sounds quickly convinced them the girl was right.  So they had a merry party at luncheon, calling Patsy “Doctor” with grave deference and telling her she had probably saved the life of A. Jones for a second time.

“And now,” proposed Uncle John, when the repast was over, “let us drive down to the sea and have a look at that beautiful launch that came in yesterday.  Everyone is talking about it and they say it belongs to some foreign prince.”

So they motored to Santa Monica and spent the afternoon on the sands, watching the bathers and admiring the graceful outlines of the big yacht lying at anchor a half mile from the shore.  The boat was something of a mystery to everybody.  It was named the “Arabella” and had come from Hawaii via San Francisco; but what it was doing here and who the owner might be were questions no one seemed able to answer.  Rumor had it that a Japanese prince had come in it to inspect the coast line, but newspaper reporters were forbidden to scale the side and no satisfaction was given their eager questioning by the bluff old captain who commanded the craft.  So the girls snapped a few kodak pictures of the handsome yacht and then lost interest in it.

That evening they met Mrs. Montrose and the Stanton girls at dinner and told them about the boy, who still remained invisible.  Uncle John had listened at his door again, but the snores had ceased and a deathlike silence seemed to pervade the apartment.  This rendered them all a trifle uneasy and when they left the dining room Arthur went to the hotel clerk and asked: