I give the letter in all its fascinating simplicity.
"Rotherhithe, Sunday.
"Dear Sir,
"I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show at the "Kindumm" and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london. I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your beak—won't never find out.
"As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy
"Daniel Raffles."
The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached Phil, since the envelope was directed to "Mr. Bourne."
Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone up to town, as the letter said?
The "Mister Acting" made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.
"Go and find young Bourne, Hinton, and tell him to come here to my study at once, or as soon as he's finished breakfast."