"Yes. But what's all this to do with me?"
"A great deal, I fancy. I am sure the money is connected with Mexico, with Balkis, with Darrel, and with Denham. Fan and Berry know about it. And the Scarlet Bat. I shouldn't be surprised to learn that it was a kind of sign connected with the affair. I can't say in what way. But we'll know soon. What I can't make out," said Jarman, nursing his chin, "is why London should be plastered with posters of the Scarlet Bat and Tamaroo."
"You don't mean to say--?"
"Yes, I do." And Eustace told Frank of the poster, and how Fan had denied having anything to do with it. "And I'm sure she spoke the truth," he said decisively, "for she asked me if I had posted the Bat. Of course, she must guess that you have it tattooed on your arm, and thought that I made use of it."
"But for what purpose? You and I are not supposed to know anything about the fortune--if there is one."
"Oh, there is one, sure enough, and the Berry lot think I know much more about it than I do. And there's another negro mixed up in the matter besides Balkis. The lawyers I called on told me that one came to ask after you." And Jarman gave details.
"Well," said Frank, more and more puzzled, "there's only one thing to be done. We must open the sealed letter."
"All right. Here you are," and in the darkness Jarman passed it along. Frank opened it, but it was impossible to see. Therefore Eustace lighted a match, which was not likely to be seen from the road, and held it while Frank read the letter. The paper had a Scarlet Bat drawn in one corner with red ink, and the writing consisted of only a few words. "My son," ran the writing, "when you are twenty-five send your address to 'Tamaroo, The General Post-Office, London. To be called for.' Then wait events."
"And Tamaroo is the name on the bills!" said Eustace under his breath.