Chapter 4

“This was in his breast-pocket,” said he, laying the bulging case on the table, and drawing up a chair. “Now, here are three letters tied together. Ah! this will be the one.” He untied the tape, and held out a dirty envelope addressed in a sprawling, illiterate hand to “Mr. Hartridge, Esq.” “Is that the note the Italian gave you?” The porter examined it critically. “Yes,” said he; “that is the one.” The inspector drew the letter out of the envelope, and, as he opened it, his eyebrows went up. “What do you make of t…