The lawyer made no reply, but picked up the box lying upon the floor, and examined it carefully. Inside he found a small thin piece of wood containing the following scrawl:
"These are country rats. What do you think of them?"
He stood for a few seconds, staring at these words. Then the light of understanding flashed upon his mind, and with an oath he tossed the chip to Whittles.
"Read that," he ordered. "It will explain matters."
A puzzled expression overspread Whittles' face as he read the writing.
"Don't you understand it?" Rackshaw asked.
"Blamed if I do," and Whittles scratched his head, as he again studied the words. "Who would want to send rats to you, of all men?"
"Wouldn't the man who got my 'city rats'?"
"What, not Abner Andrews!"
"And why not?"