His gaze fell upon Mr.William Russell, standing on the curb nearly opposite, with his hands thrust deep in his trouser-pockets, and, after a slight hesitation, he pushed open the small casement and beckoned him in.
"You're a bit of a scholar, ain't you, Bill ?" he inquired.
Mr.Russell said modestly that he had got the name for it.
Again Mr.Vickers hesitated, but he had no choice, and his curiosity would brook no delay.

With a strong caution as to secrecy, he handed the paper over to his friend.
Mr.Russell, his brow corrugated with thought, began to read slowly to himself.

The writing was certainly difficult, but the watching Mr.
Vickers saw by the way his friend's finger moved along the lines that he was conquering it.

By the slow but steady dilation of Mr.Russell's eyes and the gradual opening of his mouth, he also saw that the contents were occasioning him considerable surprise.
"What does it say ?" he demanded, anxiously.
Mr.Russell paid no heed.

He gave vent to a little gurgle of astonishment and went on.