The mere fact that the red-haired man--as in the absence of an actual name it is convenient to call him--was in the habit of dealing with Harcot and Harcot, shewed that he must have been, if not rich, at least fairly well off. The shop, as Darrel knew, was a very expensive one, and the goods it supplied were sold at much above their market value, from the fact that they were supposed to be particularly fashionable. Darrel carried with him the shirt of the dead man which had been confided to him by Torry; and this he displayed to the eyes of the senior partner. Mr. Harcot was a tall, stately-looking man, more like a Duke than a shopkeeper, and after examining the shirt through his pince-nez, he inquired loftily what it was Mr. Darrel desired to know. Darrel promptly supplied the information.
"I wish to learn what those initials stand for," said he, laying his forefinger on the letters 'J.G.'
"May I ask why!"
Darrel reflected. "I see no reason why you should not know," he remarked; "but you must respect my confidence."
"Certainly, sir, certainly," replied Harcot, whose curiosity was now excited. "Please come this way where we shall not be disturbed."
The tradesman led the way into a small room partitioned off from the shop by a glass screen and on closing the door of this, he handed Darrel a chair with great politeness.
"I await your explanation, sir," he said, smoothing out the shirt on the table.
"One moment," said Frank quickly. "If I tell you my reason for asking this question, and you agree to answer it, can I rely on your being able to give me the desired information?"
"Assuredly, sir. You will observe that under these letters 'J.G.' there is a number, one thousand four hundred and twenty. Well, sir, we index, so to speak, all shirts of our manufacture in that way; and--should your reason for seeking information satisfy me--I have only to look up that number in our books to learn for whom this shirt was made."
"Then you had better do so at once, Mr. Harcot; for thereby you may be able to capture a criminal."