“Yes,” answered Gilead, with a smile. “I noticed it and wondered. It reminded me of an article on Dead Letters that I read years ago. Specimen addresses were quoted, one of which ran, ‘Mrs’—I forget the name—‘Behind the Church, England’.”
The secretary laughed.
“This advertisement was put in at my instance, sir. It was merely a ‘draw,’ inserted to comply with your rule. Mrs B., or Mrs Baxter, applied to me personally, and thinking her case a reasonable one, I advised her to approach us according to form.”
“You did very right, Nestle. Who is Mrs Baxter?”
“Her son, sir, was a postman in the South-West District. I don’t know if you happened to notice the case. He was convicted of stealing a registered letter, and was condemned at the Middlesex Quarter Sessions last week to eighteen months hard labour.”
“No, I did not. Well?”
“There was nothing, I confess, very out-of-the-way about the affair, unless it was the recklessness of the deed in the face of sure detection.”
Gilead shook his head. “That is the commonest of criminologic problems,” he said.
“But, pardon me, sir,” answered the secretary; “does its commonness compel one to jump to the common conclusion? Say that A, a criminal, is reckless, must B, therefore, who is reckless, equal A?”
“I stand corrected, Nestle. What was in the registered packet?”