“That was a neat escape,” observed McSweeny; “but how did ye get down again?”
“The most awful part of the adventure was to come,” pursued Mr Stafford. “When I had got up a certain distance I got freezing cold, and thought to warm myself with a smoke. In striking a light some of the gas escaping from the balloon must have touched and exploded, for the next moment the whole thing was in shreds and flames, and I was flying towards earth with the speed of a cannon ball.”
“And ye was kilt? Smashed to atoms?” exclaimed McSweeny in earnest horror, with his hands raised, and his eyes almost starting from their sockets.
“No; fortunately I fell into the water, and, being an excellent swimmer, I managed to save myself. I returned to Edinburgh, but my tormentor was soon upon my track again, and even yet he continues his persecutions upon every occasion when there is no chance of being seen. Possibly he is at the bottom of this mysterious robbery.”
McSweeny asked the name of this persecutor, and after a good deal of demur on the part of Mr Stafford, the name was given, when it proved to be that of an eminent professor, as renowned for his learning as for his goodness. McSweeny was a good deal staggered, but took leave, saying he would make inquiry into the matter, and see that Mr Stafford was annoyed no longer.
When he came to me with his report I laughed outright, and said—
“Why, the man’s mad! I wonder you did not see it in him before.”
“What man? The Professor?” inquired McSweeny, with great simplicity.
“No, this Mr Stafford.”
McSweeny would not believe it, and I suggested that we should ascertain if he had really drawn £200 from the bank on the day of the alleged purchase of the jewels. I did not believe that he had, but was surprised at the bank to find that he had really drawn that sum. We then went over every jeweller’s in Princes Street, but could not discover one who had sold to any one on that day the jewels described as stolen so magically. After thinking over these discoveries for a little, I formed in my mind a theory, which proved pretty sound in the end, and which I proceeded to test, by going out to Mr Stafford’s house in company with McSweeny, and having a talk with that gentleman upon general topics. When done, I felt slightly disappointed. I could find no trace of insanity about the man, but then I ought to have remembered that my profession is not to detect lunacy, but thieves. Still, acting on my theory, I requested permission, and Mr Stafford’s assistance, to search the whole house. This was given with the greatest alacrity. We went over every room and closet, but Mr Stafford’s study, without discovering anything. Then we came to that room, and I promptly asked for his keys. The request appeared to stagger him, but was granted, and I turned out all the drawers in his writing-table. At the bottom of one of them was an envelope or thick packet, which I took up, but which he as hastily tried to take from me, saying—