He then went back to the police. "I've had a talk with the President," said he, "and I've told them all about you and your interest in the messages, and here the messages are; and you needn't worry to read them because they are dud."
The police had also got so unused to the truth from such quarters that they were taken aback when they met it.
"And now have I your full confidence?" said he, and they said that he might take it that he had. He then went back to the President.
"Good morning, Mr. President," said he. "I have given your messages to the police and told them they are dud messages, so that now I have their full confidence and can move about as I like. Give me the real messages and I'll be getting on with my journey."
Throwing precaution to the winds, the President wrote out the real messages in full and handed them to him.
"Come, come, come," said he, "you must be more careful than that," and he told him what he ought to do to make sure. He did it.
My friend then proceeded to the frontier, where, by arrangement, he was arrested. In the inside pocket of his inside coat a bundle of messages were found. The police nodded at him.
"Yes," they said, "here are the messages all right. We don't know that they help much, but we suppose that we mustn't blame you."
"Come, come, come," said my friend, "if you doubt me, search me." They did so, and, written on linen and sewn into the lining of his coat, they found some more messages, which really did help them. Yours ever, Henry.
(To be continued.)