Shorthouse made appropriate answers to these remarks, but his mind was really engaged in taking stock of Mr. Sidebotham’s old-time partner.  So far there was no sign of mental irregularity and there was certainly nothing about him to suggest violent wrong-doing or coarseness of living.  On the whole, Mr. Sidebotham’s secretary was most pleasantly surprised, and, wishing to conclude his business as speedily as possible, he made a motion towards the bag for the purpose of opening it, when his companion interrupted him quickly—­

“You are Mr. Sidebotham’s private secretary, are you not?” he asked.

Shorthouse replied that he was.  “Mr. Sidebotham,” he went on to explain, “has entrusted me with the papers in the case and I have the honour to return to you your letter of a week ago.”  He handed the letter to Garvey, who took it without a word and deliberately placed it in the fire.  He was not aware that the secretary was ignorant of its contents, yet his face betrayed no signs of feeling.  Shorthouse noticed, however, that his eyes never left the fire until the last morsel had been consumed.  Then he looked up and said, “You are familiar then with the facts of this most peculiar case?”

Shorthouse saw no reason to confess his ignorance.

“I have all the papers, Mr. Garvey,” he replied, taking them out of the bag, “and I should be very glad if we could transact our business as speedily as possible.  If you will cut out your signature I—­”

“One moment, please,” interrupted the other.  “I must, before we proceed further, consult some papers in my laboratory.  If you will allow me to leave you alone a few minutes for this purpose we can conclude the whole matter in a very short time.”

Shorthouse did not approve of this further delay, but he had no option than to acquiesce, and when Garvey had left the room by the private door he sat and waited with the papers in his hand.  The minutes went by and the other did not return.  To pass the time he thought of taking the false packet from his coat to see that the papers were in order, and the move was indeed almost completed, when something—­he never knew what—­warned him to desist.  The feeling again came over him that he was being watched, and he leaned back in his chair with the bag on his knees and waited with considerable impatience for the other’s return.  For more than twenty minutes he waited, and when at length the door opened and Garvey appeared, with profuse apologies for the delay, he saw by the clock that only a few minutes still remained of the time he had allowed himself to catch the last train.

“Now I am completely at your service,” he said pleasantly; “you must, of course, know, Mr. Shorthouse, that one cannot be too careful in matters of this kind—­especially,” he went on, speaking very slowly and impressively, “in dealing with a man like my former partner, whose mind, as you doubtless may have discovered, is at times very sadly affected.”