" With that she handed Copplestone a much thumbed, very
grimy, heavily-sealed envelope.
CHAPTER IX
HOBKIN'S HOLE
Copplestone carried the queer-looking missive into his private
sitting-room and carefully examined it, back and front, before slitting
it open. The envelope was of the cheapest kind, the big splotch of red
wax at the flap had been pressed into flatness by the summary method of
forcing a coarse-grained thumb upon it; the address was inscribed in
ill-formed characters only too evidently made with difficulty by a bad
pen, which seemed to have been dipped into watery ink at every third or
fourth letter. And it read thus:--
"THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN STAYING AT 'THE ADMIRAL '--PRIVATE"
The envelope contained nothing but a scrap of paper obviously torn from a
penny cash book. No ink had been used in transcribing the two or three
lines which were scrawled across this scrap--the vehicle this time was an
indelible pencil, which the writer appeared to have moistened with his
tongue every now and then, some letters being thicker and darker than
others. The message, if mysterious, was straightforward enough. "_Sir,"_
it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has
it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for
Yours truly--Him as writes this_."
Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called
manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for
himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain
things to be done and certain things not to be done.
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