It cleared up many points which had been enigmas, and Tom told Ralph how they had found him.
“And just to think,” he exclaimed bitterly, “that it wasn’t so very long before that that those ruffians made off up the creek. Oh! If only we could have caught them!”
“Why don’t you look at that letter I picked up?” suggested Ralph presently.
This was a surprise to Tom. In his grief over Jack’s fate he had forgotten all about the letter which Ralph had mentioned.
“That’s right, I’d forgotten you had it,” he said. “It may give us a clew. Where is it?”
“In the pocket of my coat. It’s hanging up over there on that hook.”
Tom lost no time in getting the missive from the garment Ralph indicated. It was addressed, in what was clearly meant to be a disguised hand, to Stephen Melville, No. 289 Wall Street, New York.
Tom tore the envelope open eagerly. Inside was a single sheet of paper, covered with the same half printed writing that was on the envelope. The note was brief and very much to the point:
“Have got moddle and will take it to old Haskins place, as arranged. Will wate for you thar. Have also got boy who may be the Ingersoll kid you ware anxious about. Join us at Haskins place as soon as posibul.
“J. R.”