Jim had not to wait for an opportunity. He met his master coming out of the barn. The doorway was dark; the thrashing men were at the upper end of the barn, and no eyes were near. Jim could not help some of the mystery which had appeared in Ann Canham's manner extending to his own.
"What's this?" asked George.
"Ann Canham brought it, sir. She was hiding t'other side the hedge and called to me, and telled me to be sure give it when nobody was by."
George took the missive to the door and looked at it. A piece of white paper, which had apparently served to wrap up tea or something of that sort, awkwardly folded and wafered. No direction.
He opened it; and saw a few words in a sprawling hand:
"Don't betray me, George. Come to me in secret as soon as you can. I think I am dying."
And in spite of its being without signature; in spite of the scrawled characters, and blotted words, George Ryle recognised the handwriting of Rupert Trevlyn.