“Never; and, what is more, it is never off my finger but when I am asleep,” was the decided reply; and then he listened patiently while Mr Ward related the whole of the circumstances attending the selection of the articles. No light was thrown on the matter by the narrative; but the gentleman, who before had been somewhat angry and impatient, now sobered down, and showed sufficient interest to advise Mr Ward to put the case in our hands, promising him every assistance in his power to get at the culprit. This advice was acted upon, and the next day I was collecting the facts I have recorded. I had no idea of the lad Price being involved in the affair, but I nevertheless thought proper to make sure of every step by taking him out to the Crescent and getting him to show me the house at which he delivered the parcel. He conducted me without a moment’s hesitation to the right house. I rang the bell, and when the door was opened by a clean-shaven footman, Price rapidly identified the various features of the hall. He failed, however, to identify the footman as the person who had taken the parcel from him. I was not disappointed, but rather pleased at that circumstance. I had begun to believe that the footman, like the purchaser, was a “double.” Being now on the spot, I asked to see Mr Samuel Whitmore, and, being shown up, I began to question that gentleman as to his whereabouts on the day of the purchase. That was not easily settled. Mr Whitmore’s time was his own, and one day was so very like another with him that he frankly told me that to answer that question was quite beyond his power.
By referring to Mr Ward’s account, however, we got the exact day and month of the purchase, and the naming of the month quickened the gentleman’s memory. That day had been one of many days spent in the same manner, for he had been two weeks confined to bed by illness. He could not give me the exact date, but I guessed rightly that his medical man would have a better idea, and, getting that gentleman’s address, I soon found beyond doubt that Mr Samuel Whitmore had on the day of the purchase been confined to his own room, and so ill that his life was in actual danger.
“Some of his friends may have personated him for a lark,” was my next thought, but a few inquiries soon dispelled that idea. None of Mr Whitmore’s friends had looked near him during his illness, and to complete the impersonation, it was necessary that they should have had his ring and watch, which he declared had never been out of his possession.
The discovery of these facts narrowed down the inquiry considerably. They all seemed to focus towards that invisible and mysterious footman who had taken in the parcel.
There is a great deal in a name. The lad Price had used the word “footman” in describing the servant, probably because he had a vague idea that any one was a footman who wore livery and opened a door. It had never struck him to ask if there was any other man-servant in the house, and it might not have struck me either if I had not seen another—a valet—busy brushing his young master’s clothes in a bedroom close to the apartment in which we conversed.
“Who is that brushing the clothes?” I asked of Mr Whitmore. “The coachman?”
“Oh, no; the coachman does not live in the house while we are in town; that’s my valet.”
“And what does he do?”
“Attends me—gets my clothes, helps me to dress—looks after everything, and serves me generally.”
“Does he ever answer the door bell?”