You'd better see if anything is missing.
M.T."
He read the note again, and then held it over the candle flame.
Surprise and a temporary indignation gave way before the thrill of
exultation as the blazing paper fell upon the hearth.
"'Gad, it grows more and more interesting," he mused, and chuckled
aloud. "They're not losing a minute's time in finding out all they can
about me, that's certain. Thanks, my dear Miss Thackeray. You are
undoubtedly deceived but I am not. This chap may be a detective but he
isn't looking for evidence to connect me with last night's murders.
Not a bit of it. He is trying to find out whether I ought to be shot
the next time I go snooping around Green Fancy. I'd give a good deal
to know what he put into the report he sent off a little while ago.
And I'd give a good deal more to know just where Mr. Jones stands in
this business. Selling sets of Dickens, eh? Book-agent by day, secret
agent by night,--'gad, he may even be a road-agent!"
He made a hasty but careful examination of his effects. There was not
the slightest evidence that his pack had been opened or even
disturbed. Naturally he travelled without surplus impedimenta; he
carried the lightest outfit possible.
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