“By the way, Marden, you have that parcel which Mr. Foss sent to the post?”
“I can give you it in a moment, sir, once the doctor has finished with my hand.”
“Very good. I’d like to see it.”
The Chief Constable waited patiently until Marden’s hand was completely bandaged; then he dispatched the valet for the parcel. When it was forthcoming, he dismissed Marden again. The doctor took his leave, and Armadale was left alone with Sir Clinton.
“Now let’s see what Foss was sending off, Inspector.”
Cutting the string, Sir Clinton unwrapped the paper and disclosed a small cardboard box. Inside on a layer of cotton-wool, was a wrist-watch. Further search failed to bring to light any enclosed note.
“I suppose he was sending it to be cleaned,” the Inspector hazarded. “Probably he wrote a letter by the same post.”
“Let’s have a look at it, Inspector. Be careful not to mark it with your fingers.”
Sir Clinton took the watch up and examined it closely.
“It looks fairly new to need repair.”