Such a man must carry papers--papers would reveal something.

And Bryce wanted to know anything--anything that would give information and let him into whatever secret there might be between this unlucky stranger and Ransford.
But the breast pocket was empty; there was no pocket-book there; there were no papers there.

Nor were there any papers elsewhere in the other pockets which he hastily searched: there was not even a card with a name on it.

But he found a purse, full of money--banknotes, gold, silver--and in one of its compartments a scrap of paper folded curiously, after the fashion of the cocked-hat missives of another age in which envelopes had not been invented.

Bryce hurriedly unfolded this, and after one glance at its contents, made haste to secrete it in his own pocket.