There I did not lose a minute; they had been duly apprised of my coming and I found Watson the managing clerk already waiting for me.
"Here are the two packets, Mr. Anstruther," he said, handing them to me; "they are just as you left them, you see, and the seals are intact."
I examined them and found them quite correct.
"What a fortunate thing," added Watson, as I buttoned my overcoat over the pocket in which I had stowed the little parcels, "that I saw you push those two packets into the pigeon-holes, and stopped that scoundrel from laying his hands on them!"
"Yes, it was a very lucky thing," I replied, "and I am very much obliged to you for your promptness in gathering my meaning."
"Yes, it was a fortunate escape for you, sir," he added; "when I saw you go away with those two men, I never felt more miserable in my life. But, of course, we read all about the truth of it next afternoon in the evening paper. One can hardly believe such things possible in these times with our efficient police."
"Ye-es,"—I hesitated, with my mind on the thick necks and whisky-drinking proclivities of some of the "'tecs" I had known,—"I suppose we can never rely upon absolute safety in this world."
Then as I spoke a thought struck me; I noticed that the packets were rather bulging out in the pocket in which I had placed them. I had an idea I would change their position. I quickly took them out and placed one in each of my trousers pockets; there was then nothing in my appearance to denote where they were. In the result, it was a very lucky thing I had taken this precaution.
To preserve the secret of their whereabouts, I kept my hand in the breast of my travelling coat as if I were guarding the precious parcels there, and in this way I left the lawyers' office and made for the motor-brougham, the door of which was being held open by my man Brooks.
Just as I was half-way across the pavement, a man selling evening papers came rushing by and shouting—