“Did you ever see any of Slade’s handwriting?” it occurred to me to ask.
“Surre. Why?”
“Have you any of it now?”
“Nope,” said Archer; “he didn’t botherr about letterrs. Why?”
“I just wondered,” I replied; “I think I may have seen his handwriting.”
“Maybe back in Bridgeboro, hey?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Go on with the story.”
“Well,” said Archer, “as near as I can rememberr, this is what he wrote—half a dozen notes—all the same:
“The Germans are massing from Champrey as far east as the mountains. They are going to attack tomorrow. This is to let you know. They are going to advance in close formation.”
Having written these notes, Archer says Slade told him he went out and picked up as many stones. There was some string which had come around packages sent to prisoners from the American Red Cross, and with this he bound each note to a stone. On a junk heap near the barracks he had often noticed certain stiff, rusty pieces of heavy wire turned into eyes at one end. They were two feet or so long and he had always supposed them to be old ramrods from rifles or muskets. He picked out half a dozen of these, tied the eye ends together with a piece of string and hung them about his neck so that they depended against his back and under his jacket and trousers. The stones he distributed in his pockets.