“That of my identity—my name and face, you mean.”
“Yes.”
Haywood reflected.
“How am I to know that the letter will be of any value to me?” he asked.
“You can take my word for it, or I will repeat part of its contents to you. I have read it often enough to remember it pretty well. But first I must tell you that it is not complete. In pulling it from his hand I tore it, leaving a fragment in his grip. He was holding it and reading it over. That missing piece contains some important words, too, but probably they can be guessed at.”
“Well, well, I haven’t much time to spare. Repeat the contents of the letter, as nearly as you can remember.”
Snags thereupon whispered a few words in Haywood’s ear, to which the latter listened with great intentness. They seemed to be of vital import, judging from their effect on Haywood.
“Give me the letter!” he exclaimed. “And the fragment torn off—where is that?”
“Carlos Conrad has it.”
“Ah! Why did you not take it from him?”