Chapter 21: The “Note”

Miss Arnott displayed somewhat singular unwillingness to break the seals. She watched Mr Adams retreating on his bicycle; not only till the machine itself was out of sight, but the cloud of dust which marked its progress had vanished also. Then she turned the scrap of paper over and over in her fingers, possessed by an instinctive reluctance to learn what it contained. It seemed ridiculous to suppose that Jim Baker could have anything to cause her disturbance, yet she had an eerie feeling that there was something disagreeable inside his “note,” something which she would much rather not come into contact with. Had she followed her own inclination she would have shredded it into pieces, and scattered the pieces over the roadway. In some indescribable fashion she was actually afraid of the scrap of paper which she held between her fingers.

It was the sudden realisation that this was so which stung her into action. Afraid of anything Jim Baker might have to say? She? Nonsense! The idea! Could anything be more absurd!

There and then she broke the seals, unfolded the sheet of paper. But when she had got so far again she hesitated. The thing was fresh from a prison; had about it, she fancied, a prison atmosphere, a whiff of something sordid which it had borne with it out of gaol. It was that, she told herself, which she did not relish. Why should she read the scrawl? What interest could it have for her? Better instruct Mr Parsloe, or that eminent practitioner in the conduct of criminal cases with whose name Mr Stacey had furnished her, to undertake Baker’s defence, and spare no expense in doing so, and so have done with it. Let her keep her own fingers out of the mire; leave the whole thing to the lawyers; that would be better for everyone concerned. So it would not be necessary for her to spell her way through the man’s ill-written scribble.

And then she read Jim Baker’s “note.”

As Mr Adams had surmised it was written in pencil; apparently with a blunt stump of pencil used by unaccustomed fingers, probably under circumstances in which a skilful writer would have been uneasy. Here and there it seemed that the pencil had refused to write; possibly only by dint of pressure had it been induced to write at all. The letters were blurred and indistinct, ill-formed, irregular, disjoined--in general, mere hieroglyphics. And yet, despite the crabbed writing, the eccentric spelling, the clumsy wording, Jim Baker’s “note” made a stronger impression on Miss Arnott than the most eloquent epistle with which she had ever been favoured.

“Miss Arnott I see you done it but I wouldnt say nuthink about it if it wasnt that from what I ear they are going to hang me for what I se you doing and I wont say nuthin about it now if you se I have a loryer and all regular so as to get me out of this were it aint rite I should be sein I saw you they may cutt my tung out before Ill speak unless they make out I dun it so if you dont se I have a loryer and all regular Ill have to speke Jim Baker.”