The communication ran as follows:
“Dear Folks at Home: I suppose you will all be glad to know that I am back in the United States safe and sound once more. I trust this finds you all well.
“We had a good trip from, Cuba, and are now unloading a portion of our cargo here. As soon as that is done, we shall take some new cargo aboard, and then sail for Philadelphia, where my trip will come to an end. I reckon I have had enough of the ocean for the present, and shall either go to school again or else get something to do ashore. A life on the ocean wave is all well enough in a story book, but when you’ve got to be on deck in all sorts of weather, and put up with any old kind of grub, it’s a different story. And they tell me the food on this brig is as good as the average vessel.
“I have got a whole lot to tell when I get home, so I will not take the time to put it down on paper. But there is one thing I must write about. I may be making a mistake, but I don’t think so.
“It’s about that Jabez Garrison, who ran away from Philadelphia with some funds belonging to a benevolent association. I read the newspaper clippings Frank sent me, carefully, and also read what father wrote about him. I also kept the picture one of the papers printed of the rascal.
“Unless I am greatly mistaken, this Jabez Garrison is in Charleston. I was knocking around town yesterday, taking in the sights, when I stopped into a restaurant for a bite. Some men were there, and two at a table near me. Evidently they had just run across one another, and each seemed to be glad to see the other.
“These men talked of going to California, to a place called San Margella, wherever that is. The little chap was called Flecker, and he addressed the other man once as Garrison, and then again as Jabez. Both spoke of being in Philadelphia some time ago. The fellow called Flecker, or Becker, said he had been to Goshen, to the horse races, and out in Pennsylvania. The other man, Garrison, said he had been to Boston and down the Maine coast. Both acted as if they knew each other well and had been in some shady transactions together.
“I didn’t know what to do. If I had been sure this Garrison was the man you were after, I would have had him arrested, but both of the men went out, and in a crowd on the street I lost sight of them.
“Before they went away, however, they arranged to meet at a place called the Planters’ House, a week from to-day. Flecker said he had business to attend to in New York, and Garrison said he would lay low until his pal got back.
“If there is anything in this let me know. Shall I notify the police or what?”