Monsieur slowly unfolded the paper and smoothed it out.
“Meester Beekaire!” said he, with a twist of his moustache, as he recognised the writing. “You mean that I read it?”
“Certainly, if you like.”
The Frenchman read the document through, and then pitched it back into the fire.
“Well?” said Railsford.
“Well, my good friend, it seems you do not know Meester Beekaire as well as others.”
“Is that all?” said Railsford, a little nettled.
“The masters’ meeting is to-night, is it not?”
“So he says.”
“You shall go?”