Burroughs took him out of the room and was back again in a minute or two, his face one staring note of interrogation.
“What the devil does it all mean?” he cried.
“He’s an honest fellow that, Jack. He’s been led into trouble by evil companions and——”
“Oh, rats!” he broke in. “What were you writing there? You had me guessing all the time?”
“I was only writing this;” and I showed him the copy of the letter.
He read it and scratched his head. “What is it? A prize puzzle?”
“It’s a copy of the letter I took from our friend’s pocket.”
“But you wrapped it up in the parcel.”
“You wouldn’t have me rob a gentleman of his belongings?”
“But the blessed thing was on the table all the time.”