‘The earth must have opened and swallowed him up,’ said Mr. Brown, the junior partner.
‘I think that he was not the robber of our store,’ said Mr. Vandewater, thoughtfully, ‘for he would scarcely have remained here all night, if he had shared in the booty.’
‘What could have been his errand?’ said Brown.
‘The fellow might have blundered in here, in a fit of intoxication and gone to sleep,’ said Monteagle.
‘But why did he kill that tripeman?’ inquired Mr. Vandewater.
‘Oh, the fellow would kill anybody,’ said Monteagle.
Mr. Brown looked very mysterious, and finally seeming to muster up courage, he pulled a note from his pocket, and said to Monteagle—‘Perhaps you can tell why this note addressed to you was picked up on the very spot where the murderer was sleeping.’
‘How!’ cried Vandewater. ‘What’s in the note?’
‘I have not taken the liberty to break the seal,’ returned Brown. ‘Its contents will be known to Mr. Monteagle whenever he chooses to do so.’
Brown handed the note to Monteagle. It was written on fine, gilt-edged paper, and directed to “Mr. Lorenzo Monteagle, Montgomery street.”