There were two or three packets on the table, even then, and he winced as he turned them over. One was a bundle of proofs of an article he had written for a medical paper; the next was a carefully-sealed box, registered, and he threw it into a drawer with an angry ejaculation. It was from a jeweller, and contained a pearl bracelet he had bought as a present for his betrothed.
The other was also a box that had come by post, registered, and it was heavy. He did not know what that was; he had ordered no other present, and his curiosity being excited, he cut the green tape, tore off the great seals, and was in the act of opening the cartridge paper in which it was folded, when he stopped and snatched up the tape to which the sealing-wax adhered.
There were three seals, two the coarse splotches of common wax used by postal authorities; the other was fine and had been sealed with arms and crest, but a drop from the coarse postal wax had half covered it and Chester could make nothing of the sender.
The box within was fastened down with brads, and he forced it open with some curiosity, to find a heavy packet of what seemed to be short, thick pieces of pipe, and with a vague idea that they were connected with some surgical instrument sent to him from the maker on trial, he pushed it aside impatiently, and threw himself back in his chair.
The next minute the thought occurred to him that a surgical instrument maker would not seal the packet with armorial bearings, and he would have sent some communication, so, catching up the box, he drew out the carefully-done-up packet within, tore it open, and then let his hands fall on the table, for the contents were rouleaux of sovereigns, all bright and fresh from the mint, the number written upon the packet—“210 pounds.” Two hundred guineas—the fee promised to him for his services.
“Gentlemanly and honourable in this, after all,” he said to himself; and he eagerly searched the papers to see if there was a note.
None, and with an ejaculation of disappointment he unlocked the table drawer, thrust in the rouleaux, locked them up, and then caught up the pieces of green tape again, to examine the blurred red seal.
“Eureka!” he muttered; “then here is the clue.” He carefully cut off the seal and placed it in his pocket-book, after satisfying himself that the crest over the shield of armorial bearings was a mailed arm bent, the elbow only being clear. With this to guide him, he went to a book-case, and took down a Peerage, in the faint hope of finding the arms of some great family there; and he was still vainly searching when the servant knocked at the door to tell him that breakfast was ready.
Laura and his aunt were waiting in the dining-room, and their salute was a formal “Good-morning,” after which the breakfast was partaken of in silence, and he rose to go back to his room.
“Will you see your patients this morning, Frederick?” said his aunt, as he reached the door.