"Enclosed fragments have come to hand. It is a letter from Zuker, the German Jew, who is in England. Take care. Be on guard!"
When he had finished this brief note, Mr. Moncrief took from his pocket-book several fragments of torn paper, bearing on them, as it appeared to Paul, mysterious hieroglyphics. He put these inside an envelope together with the note he had written. Then he sealed it down and handed it to Paul.
"You are my boy's chum, I feel that I can trust you. Give this to my brother, Mr. Walter Moncrief—in no one else's hands. I cannot tell you how much may depend upon those pieces of paper reaching him. You will not part with them whatever happens?"
"God helping me," said Paul, impressed with the earnestness of Mr. Moncrief's words and manner. "There is my house, sir"—pointing to the Manor House. "You will find rest there, and perhaps you wouldn't mind telling my mother where I've gone."
Paul mounted to the saddle. Falcon, as though anxious to resume its journey, sped along the lane into the open road. Though it was getting dusk, it mattered little to Paul, for he was well acquainted with every inch of the country for miles around. He could not help thinking of the strangeness of the adventure.
"Stan's father—only fancy! I'm glad that I was able to help him and take his message. Shan't I have something to tell old Stan when I get back to school!"
Then he began to wonder what the torn fragments of paper, with the hieroglyphics on them, could mean, and what could be the message of which he was the bearer. Had he seen it, his wonder would assuredly have grown.
The cool breeze of evening fell upon his face. The shadows began to lengthen. The leaves rustled beneath Falcon's feet. It was a noble, intelligent horse, and seemed as conscious of the importance of the message upon which it was going as Paul himself.
"Good horse—good Falcon!" cried Paul, stroking its neck. "I wouldn't mind a horse like you. I wonder how many times Stan has ridden you."
By this time they had reached an open common. It had been a perilous place to ride over in years gone by, when robbers abounded, but those days had gone, and no thought of danger occurred to Paul as he reached it. There were two ways of going to his destination—one was by taking the road by the side of the common and skirting it, the other, by the more solitary but nearer road across it. Paul selected the latter, urging his horse to a gallop as he did so. Falcon immediately responded to the call of its young rider, and soon they were speeding across the common.