A little stream of diners were leaving the restaurant, moving slowly down the narrow aisle between the tables, and Timothy stopped talking as they passed and eyed them with a bored interest usual to the circumstances.
It was after the interruption had ended, and the last of the little stream had departed, that he saw the card on the table. It was near his place and it had not been there before. He picked it up and on the uppermost side was written: “Do not let your friend see this.”
“Well, I’m——” he began, and turned the card over.
It was not written but printed in capital letters:
“IF YOU DO NOT HEAR FROM ME BY THE TWENTY-NINTH, I BEG OF YOU THAT YOU WILL GO TO TANGIER AND ENQUIRE AT THE CONTINENTAL HOTEL FOR A MAN CALLED RAHBAT—A MOOR, WHO WILL LEAD YOU TO ME. I BEG YOU FOR THE SAKE OF OUR RELATIONSHIP TO COME. DID YOU GET THE MONEY?”
Timothy laid the card down and stared at the girl.
“What is it?” she asked and reached out her hand.
“I—it is nothing,” he said hurriedly.
“Nonsense, Timothy. What is it? Let me see it, please.”
Without a word he handed the card to the girl, who read it through in silence.