“Never been found from that day to this. Not hide nor hair of them stamps has been seen since.”
“Didn’t they have any clues?” asked Frank. “Were the stamps simply lost?”
“They disappeared,” insisted Amos Grice. “And not only the stamps disappeared. There was one of the Jefferson servants dropped out of sight at the same time.”
“He probably stole the stamps and cleared out,” Frank suggested.
“If he stole ’em, why didn’t he sell ’em? The stamps have never been heard of since they left the Jefferson home. This servant—his name was John Sparewell—could have raised a lot of money by sellin’ the stamps, but the stamps would have turned up sooner or later, because only other stamp collectors would have bought ’em. But of all the rare stamps in that collection, not one has ever been found.”
“That’s a strange yarn,” said Frank.
“You bet it’s a strange yarn. The stamps were all kept on sheets, in a rosewood box. The day John Sparewell walked out of the Jefferson home, the rosewood box disappeared from the safe it was always kept in.”
“Has no one ever heard of Sparewell? Didn’t Mr. Jefferson get the police to look for him?”
“Certainly. But the police never found him. They sent descriptions of this man Sparewell all over the world, but he never turned up. Queerest story I ever did hear. Mary Bender died just a short time after. And ever since the stamps were lost, Elroy Jefferson ain’t been the same.”
Amos Grice wagged his head sadly.