“Sir!” answered Dicky, suddenly recalled from a contemplation of old Blackberry through the window.
“Do you know what is in this letter?” repeated the lieutenant sharply.
“Something about beef cattle, I believe, sir,” answered Dicky, returning to the contemplation of his steed.
It was an ordinary letter enough, but still the lieutenant did not seem able to persuade himself that it was exactly what it appeared to be. He could scarcely imagine, though, that a compromising letter would be sent by a boy, and, moreover, a boy who loitered by the road-side singing songs. It occurred to him that he could find out something of the value of the letter by the price that was paid Dicky for taking it.
“Look here, my lad,” he said suddenly; “how much are you to get if you deliver this letter and bring a reply?”
“Two shillings, sir,” promptly replied Dicky; “but if I don’t deliver it, I ain’t to get anything.”
“That settles it,” said the young officer more to himself than to Dicky. “A two-shilling messenger is not likely to be charged with serious undertakings. You may go, youngster.”
And the next minute Dicky had darted out of the door and, seizing old Blackberry, was off at a smarter trot than Blackberry had known for a good many years.
Dicky arrived at Tiverton about nine o’clock and easily found the solid, substantial Barton mansion.
Mr. Barton was standing on the broad brick porch when Dicky swung himself off Blackberry and, holding his shabby cap in his hand, presented the letter.
“The seal, sir, was broken by a redcoat officer a little way out from Newport; but he didn’t understand the letter,” Dicky added significantly.
“It is easily understood,” said Mr. Barton, looking up after he got to the end.
Boylike, Dicky was charmed at being able to show the extent of his knowledge and responsibilities. Coming up close to Mr. Barton, he pointed out the third line from the bottom. Mr. Barton’s eyes followed Dicky’s finger as it traveled upward over the page, and he grasped the meaning immediately.
“Boy,” said he after a pause, “there are some things I want to ask you. Come in the house with me and do exactly what I tell you.”
Dicky followed him in a small, dark room on the first floor, fitted up as a library. Mr. Barton directed him to take a chair and then disappeared behind him for a few moments. When he came back he said:—