"A fellow on a bicycle was passing the gate, and he gave it to me. Said it was for you, and I brought it along."
"Oh, thanks. You can cut now." He looked at the address—his name, in pencil. Then he ripped the envelope open. He pulled out a thin sheet of paper, like a leaf from a pocket-book. He looked on it with growing amazement, that was replaced by an expression of horror.
"Jove—they've got him!" he said, hoarsely.
"Got him?" repeated Silver. "What do you mean?"
For answer, Jack passed over the sheet of paper.
"Faraday is held a prisoner," it ran, "and says the Black Star is with you. Keep this to yourself, and meet me, with the Star to-morrow night, nine o'clock, at Day's Corner. Attempt no treachery, or it will be the worse for your friend—and yourself. It is the only way. Your failure to turn up as stated or any trickery will be the end of Faraday.—Lazare."
"Whew! Is this a joke?" asked Silver. "And who the dickens is Lazare?"
But Jack did not answer him. He stared at Silver as if he were not there, and his face had gone perfectly white.