"I have an idea that this old oak writing-desk was not selected by our friend, Mrs. Fry. Am I right?"
"It is my brother's desk; bought for its compact and portable qualities."
"Good! Now, where did your brother usually keep these keepsakes and bits of foreign jewellery?"
"In one of these drawers. He kept them in a lacquered Japanese box."
"Look for them. And, before you begin, oblige me by not touching that letter file above the desk, nor the desk top just below it."
The letter file held only a few bits of paper, apparently notes and memoranda; and upon the flat top of the desk was a bronze ink well, a pen tray, a thin layer of dust and nothing more, except a tiny scrap of paper hardly as big as a thumb nail, which lay directly beneath the letter file. Brierly cast a wandering glance over the desk top and file and set about his task.
There was quite a litter of papers, letters mostly, together with some loose sheets that contained figures, dates, or something begun and cast aside. Below some of the pigeon holes, letters lay as if hastily pulled out, and from one of these little receptacles three or four envelopes protruded, half out, half in—one, a square white envelope, projecting beyond the others. These
