I was just ready to hail a cab crawling by at a distance, when I remembered the bit of paper I'd found and put back into my pocket.

It occurred to me to have a look at it, by the light of a street lamp near by; and the instant I had straightened out the small, crumpled wad I guessed that here was a link in the mystery.
The paper was a leaf torn from a note-book and closely covered on both sides with small, uneven writing done with a sharp black pencil.

The handwriting was that of an uneducated person, and was strange to me.

I could not make out the words by the light of the tall lamp, so I lit a wax match from my match-box, and protecting the flame in the hollow of my hand, began studying the strange message.
The three first words sent my heart up with a bound.

"On board the 'Queen.'" I had crossed the Channel in the "Queen," and this beginning alone was enough to make me hope that the bit of paper might do more than any detective to unravel the mystery.
"I'm taking big risks because I've got to," I read on.