The paper was a leaf torn from a note-book and closely covered on both sides with small, uneven writing done with a sharp black pencil. The handwriting was that of an uneducated person, and was strange to me. I could not make out the words by the light of the tall lamp, so I lit a wax match from my match-box, and protecting the flame in the hollow of my hand, began studying the strange message.
The three first words sent my heart up with a bound. “On board the ‘Queen.’” I had crossed the Channel in the “Queen,” and this beginning alone was enough to make me hope that the bit of paper might do more than any detective to unravel the mystery.
“I’m taking big risks because I’ve got to,” I read on. “It’s my only chance. And if you find this, I bet I can trust you. You’re a gentleman, and you saved my life and a lot more besides by getting into that railway-carriage when the other chaps did. The minute I seen them I thot I was done for, but you stopped there game. I’m a jewler’s assistant, carrying property worth thousands, for my employers. From the first I knew ’twas bound to be a ticklish job. On this bote I’m safe, for the villions who would have murdered and robbed me in the train if it hadn’t been for you being there, won’t have a chance, but when I get to Paris it will be the worst, and no hope for the jewls, followed as I am, if I hadn’t already thot of a plan to save them through you, an honest gentleman far above temptashun. I know who you are, for I’ve seen your photo in the papers. So, what I did was this: to try a ventriloquist trick which has offen bin of use in my carere, just as folks were on the boat’s gangway. Thro’ making that disturbance, and a little skill I have got by doing amatoor conjuring to amuse my wife and famly, I was able to slip the case of my employer’s jewls into your breast pocket without your knowing. And I had to take away what you had in, not that I wanted to rob one who had done good by me, but because if I’d left it the double thickness would have surprised you and you would probably have pulled out my case to see what it was. Then my fat would have bin in the fire, with certin persons looking on, and you in danger as well as me which wouldn’t be fare. I’ve got your case in my pocket as I write, but I won’t open it because it may have your sweetart’s letters in. You can get your property again by bringing me my master’s, which is fare exchange. I can’t call on you, for I don’t know where your going and daren’t hang round to see on account of the danger I run, and needing to meet a pal of mine who will help me. I must get to him at once, if I am spared to do so, for which reason I wrote out this explanashun. The best I can do is to slip it in your pocket which I shall try when in the railway stashun at Paris. You see how I trust you as a gentleman to bring me the jewls. Come as soon as you can, and get your own case instead, calling at 218 Rue Fille Sauvage, Avenue Morot, back room, top floor, left of passage. Expressing my gratitood in advance,
“I am,
“Yours trustfully,
“J.M. Jeweler’s Messenger.
“P.S.—For heaven’s sake don’t fale, and ask the concerge for name of Gestre.”
If it had not been for my rage at not having read this illuminating little document earlier, I should have felt like shouting with joy. As it was, my delight was tempered with enough of regret to make it easier to restrain myself.
But for the fear that du Laurier might be still with Maxine, I should have rushed back to her house for a moment, just long enough to give her the good news. But in the circumstances I dared not do it, lest she should curse instead of bless me: and besides, as there was still a chance of disappointment, it might be better in any case not to raise her hopes until there was no danger of dashing them again. The best thing was to get the treaty back, without a second of delay. As for the detective, who was perhaps waiting for me at the hotel, he would have to wait longer, or even go away disgusted—nothing made much difference now. Maybe, when once I had the treaty in my hands, I might send a messenger with a few cautious words to Maxine. No matter how late the hour, she was certain not to be asleep.
The cab I had seen crawling through the street had disappeared long ago, and no other was in sight, so I walked quickly on, hoping to find one presently. It was now so late, however, that in this quiet part of Paris no carriages of any sort were plying for hire. Finally I made up my mind that I should have to go all the way on foot; but I knew the direction of the Avenue Morot, though I’d never heard of Rue de la Fille Sauvage, and as it was not more than two miles to walk, I could reach the house I wanted to find in half an hour.
A few minutes more or less ought not to matter much, since “J. M.” was sure to be awaiting me with impatience; therefore the thing which bothered me most was the effect likely to be produced on the man when I could not hand him over the diamonds in exchange for the treaty.
Of course I didn’t believe that “J.M.” was a jeweller’s messenger, though possibly I might have been less incredulous if Maxine had not told me the true history of the diamonds, and what had happened in Holland. As it was, I had very little doubt that the rat of a man I had chanced to protect in the railway carriage was no other than the extraordinarily expert thief who had relieved du Laurier of the Duchess’s necklace.