"Dear Sir,
"I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you
came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the
linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the
gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show
at the "Kindumm" and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister
Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london.
I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your
beak--won't never find out.
"As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy
"Daniel Raffles."
The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached
Phil, since the envelope was directed to "Mr. Bourne."
Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped
the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone
up to town, as the letter said?
The "Mister Acting" made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.
"Go and find young Bourne, Hinton, and tell him to come here to my study
at once, or as soon as he's finished breakfast."
Jack came in whistling a jolly tune; he was in full bloom, for had he
not now left all his cares behind him?
"You can cut, Hinton; and, Jack, take a chair and give me an explanation
of this letter."
Jack read Raffles' letter through to the bitter end, and wished he had
never been born. Phil eyed his young brother, who had turned deathly
white, with the horrible certainty that Jack had gone up to London.
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