It was a letter, perhaps, and if a letter, then he would gain some facts about the man's life.
But if it was a letter, why did he burn it?
It was said that he never received a letter and never sent one, therefore it was little likely to be a letter if not a letter, then what could it be?
Perhaps the man was English and a spy of the English government, for was there not disaffection in some of the parishes?
Perhaps it was a plan of robbery.
To such a state of hallucination did his weakened mind come, that he forgot the kindly feeling he had had for this stranger who had worked for him without pay.

Suspicion, the bane of sick old age, was hot on him.

He remembered that M'sieu' had put an arm through his when they went upstairs, and that now increased suspicion.

Why should the man have been so friendly?
To lull him into confidence, perhaps, and then to rob and murder him in his sleep.

Thank God, his ready money was well hid, and the rest was safe in the bank far away! He crept back to his room with the paper in his hand.