'You are right,' I answered. 'There is no need for you to meddle in the
business. Be mum as to all that you have heard.'

'Mum as a mouse,' said he, and pressing my hand turned away into the
darkness. When I returned to the sitting-room I found that my mother
had hurried into the kitchen, where the crackling of sticks showed that
she was busy in building a fire. Decimus Saxon was seated at the edge
of the iron-bound oak chest at the side of my father, and was watching
him keenly with his little twinkling eyes, while the old man was fixing
his horn glasses and breaking the seals of the packet which his strange
visitor had just handed to him.

I saw that when my father looked at the signature at the end of the
long, closely written letter he gave a whiff of surprise and sat
motionless for a moment or so staring at it. Then he turned to the
commencement and read it very carefully through, after which he turned
it over and read it again. Clearly it brought no unwelcome news, for
his eyes sparkled with joy when he looked up from his reading, and more
than once he laughed aloud. Finally he asked the man Saxon how it had
come into his possession, and whether he was aware of the contents.

'Why, as to that,' said the messenger, 'it was handed to me by no less
a person than Dicky Rumbold himself, and in the presence of others whom
it's not for me to name. As to the contents, your own sense will tell
you that I would scarce risk my neck by bearing a message without I knew
what the message was. I am no chicken at the trade, sir. Cartels,
_pronunciamientos_, challenges, flags of truce, and proposals for
waffenstillstands, as the Deutschers call it--they've all gone through
my hands, and never one, gone awry.'