He took a step back, and looked up. "I gotter letter for you guv'nor--a letter from the young laidy." "The devil you have!" I exclaimed eagerly. "You hang on there, my son. I'll be with you in half a tick." Thrusting the revolver into my pocket, I hurried downstairs again, and with feverish haste unchained and opened the front door. Jimmy wiped his boots noisily on the mat, and with a cheerful grin advanced into the hall. "I seed the light through the shutters," he explained, "and I guessed you was inside. That's why I knocked at the winder." "Quite right, Jimmy," I said. "Where's the note?" He dived into his pocket, and produced a crumpled and dirty-looking envelope, which he handed to me. "When did you get this?" I demanded, refastening the door. "On'y just now, guv'nor. It was give me by the old Frenchwoman wot lives at 'The Laurels.'" I crossed to the lamp, and, tearing open the flap, pulled out the enclosure. It consisted of half a sheet of notepaper closely covered in Christine's small writing. "DEAREST,--I am giving this note to Marie, who has promised to deliver it to Jimmy. I believe she is to be trusted, but I dare not say more for fear that it should fall into the wrong hands. At the present moment I am a prisoner in my own bedroom. I expect to be free again, with Marie's help, at half-past eight this evening. If all goes well I shall come across to the island immediately. Will you be on the landing-stage at twenty minutes to nine? Come straight down across the garden and through the iron gate, _but on no account leave the house a moment before it's necessary_. I will explain everything when I see you. With all my love, "CHRISTINE." I read it through to the end, and then turned back to Jimmy, who was still standing where I had left him. "Did the old woman say anything when she gave you this note?" I asked. "On'y as I was to let 'er know whether you'd got it," was the answer. "She's going to wait for me at the corner o' Butcher's Lane." "Well, you can tell her it will be all right," I said, thrusting the letter into my pocket. "I suppose you haven't heard whether Mr. de Roda is back at the house--the young lady's uncle, you know?" Jimmy nodded. "'E's there all right. 'E come up in a motor-boat about mid-day. She's lying out in the tideway round the point." "How do you know it was Mr. de Roda?" I asked. "Why, George Ellis, the boatman, seed 'im and Craill rowin' ashore. I 'eard George tellin' my dad. She's a fine boat, too, guv'nor--the old _Seagull_, wot used to belong to Captain Stainer of 'Arwich. George reckons 'e must 'ave bought 'er while 'e was away." "Big enough to go to sea in?" I asked. He nodded his head. "That's a fact," he answered in the usual Essex idiom. "The Capt'n run across to France in 'er once, and George says she done the trip in a reg'lar treat." I pulled out my pocket-book and extracted a ten shilling note.