"Nothing to affect you, Mr. Maxwell," my companion replied. "We only want a little important information, if you can give it us. We are anxious to discover a man's whereabouts before daylight, and we have been led to believe that you are the only person who can give us the necessary clue."
"Good gracious! But I shall be happy to serve you if I can," the little man answered, leading the way into his dining-room with an air of importance his appearance rather belied. "What is it?"
"Well, it's this," I replied, producing the piece of envelope and the Evening Mercury. "You see these letters on the top of this paper, don't you?" He nodded, his attention at once secured by seeing his own name. "Well, that envelope was evidently purchased in your shop. So was this newspaper."
"How can you tell that?"
"In the case of the envelope, by these letters; in that of the paper, by your rubber stamp on the bottom."
"Ah! Well, now, and in what way can I help you?"
"We want to know the address of the man who bought them."
"That will surely be difficult. Can you give me any idea of what he was like?"
"Tall, slightly foreign in appearance, distinctly handsome, sallow complexion, very dark eyes, black hair, small hands and feet."
As my description progressed the little man's face brightened. Then he cried with evident triumph—"I know the man; he came into the shop yesterday afternoon."