The paper was a leaf torn from a note-book and closely covered on both sides with small, uneven writing done with a sharp black pencil.  The handwriting was that of an uneducated person, and was strange to me.  I could not make out the words by the light of the tall lamp, so I lit a wax match from my match-box, and protecting the flame in the hollow of my hand, began studying the strange message.

The three first words sent my heart up with a bound.  “On board the ‘Queen.’” I had crossed the Channel in the “Queen,” and this beginning alone was enough to make me hope that the bit of paper might do more than any detective to unravel the mystery.

“I’m taking big risks because I’ve got to,” I read on.  “It’s my only chance.  And if you find this, I bet I can trust you.  You’re a gentleman, and you saved my life and a lot more besides by getting into that railway-carriage when the other chaps did.  The minute I seen them I thot I was done for, but you stopped there game.  I’m a jewler’s assistant, carrying property worth thousands, for my employers.  From the first I knew ’twas bound to be a ticklish job.  On this bote I’m safe, for the villions who would have murdered and robbed me in the train if it hadn’t been for you being there, won’t have a chance, but when I get to Paris it will be the worst, and no hope for the jewls, followed as I am, if I hadn’t already thot of a plan to save them through you, an honest gentleman far above temptashun.  I know who you are, for I’ve seen your photo in the papers.  So, what I did was this:  to try a ventriloquist trick which has offen bin of use in my carere, just as folks were on the boat’s gangway.  Thro’ making that disturbance, and a little skill I have got by doing amatoor conjuring to amuse my wife and famly, I was able to slip the case of my employer’s jewls into your breast pocket without your knowing.  And I had to take away what you had in, not that I wanted to rob one who had done good by me, but because if I’d left it the double thickness would have surprised you and you would probably have pulled out my case to see what it was.  Then my fat would have bin in the fire, with certin persons looking on, and you in danger as well as me which wouldn’t be fare.  I’ve got your case in my pocket as I write, but I won’t open it because it may have your sweetart’s letters in.  You can get your property again by bringing me my master’s, which is fare exchange.  I can’t call on you, for I don’t know where your going and daren’t hang round to see on account of the danger I run, and needing to meet a pal of mine who will help me.  I must get to him at once, if I am spared to do so, for which reason I wrote out this explanashun.  The best I can do is to slip it in your pocket which I shall try when in the railway stashun at Paris.  You see how I trust you as a gentleman to bring me the jewls.  Come as soon as you can, and get your own case instead, calling at 218 Rue Fille Sauvage, Avenue Morot, back room, top floor, left of passage.  Expressing my gratitood in advance,

    “I am,