"Whatever it is, it is disguised," said Hatch.
He was inclined to agree with Detective Cunningham that it was a woman's purposely altered, and in that event—Great Cæsar! There came that flock of seven-column heads again! And he couldn't open the bottle!
The simple story of the arrival of the gold plate at Seven Oaks was told thrillingly by the servant.
"It was eight o'clock last night," he said. "I was standing in the hall here. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph were still at the dinner table. They dined alone. Suddenly I heard the sound of waggon-wheels on the granolithic road in front of the house. I listened intently. Yes, it was waggon-wheels."
The detectives exchanged significant glances.
"I heard the waggon stop," the servant went on in an awed tone. "Still I listened. Then came the sound of footsteps on the walk and then on the steps. I walked slowly along the hall toward the front door. As I did so the bell rang."
"Yes, ting-a-ling-a-ling, we know. Go on," Hatch interrupted impatiently.
"I opened the door," the servant continued. "A man stood there with a package. He was a burly fellow. 'Mr. Randolph live here?' he asked gruffly. 'Yes,' I said. 'Here's a package for him,' said the man. 'Sign here.' I took the package and signed a book he gave me, and—and——"
"In other words," Hatch interrupted again, "an expressman brought the package here, you signed for it, and he went away?"
The servant stared at him haughtily.