And he thrust into my eagerly outstretched hand a very thin half-sheet
of foreign notepaper, of that kind of cheap glazed notepaper you get in
cafes on the Continent when you ask for writing materials.

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.