"Steady, my boy!" was the imperturbable reply, "let me spin my yarn my own way. I'm coming to the piece of paper...."

Well, then, old Urutius came to see me ten days ago. All I knew about Francis I had told...

[end of sample]Three lines of German, written in fluent German characters in purple ink beneath the name and address of Mynheer van Urutius ... that was all. My heart sank with disappointment and wretchedness as I read the inscription. Here is the document:

Herr Willem van Urutius,
Automobilgeschäft,
Nymwegen.
Alexandtr-Straat 81 bis. Berlin, Iten Juli, 16.

O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!
Wie leer sind deine Blätter.
Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.
Wo zweie sich zanken
Erfreut sich der Dritte.

Translation:
Mr. Willem van Urutius,
Automobile Agent,
Nymwegen.
81 bis Alexander-Straat. Berlin, 1st July, 16.

O Oak-tree! O Oak-tree,
How empty are thy leaves.
Like Achiles in the tent.
When two people fall out
The third party rejoices.

I stared at this nonsensical document in silence. My thoughts were almost too bitter for words. At last I spoke.

"What's all this rigmarole got to do with Francis, Dicky?" I asked, vainly trying to suppress the bitterness in my voice. "This looks like a list of copybook maxims for your Dutch friend's advertisement cards...."

But I returned to the study of the piece of paper.

"Not so fast, old bird," Dicky replied coolly, "let me finish my story. Old Stick-in-the-mud is a lot shrewder than we think."

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