"Well, what do you want me to do?" questioned St. John, after a pause, during which Jack waited with bated breath for what might follow.
"Jack was picked up from a shipwreck nearly eleven years ago. He and his mother were taken to your aunt's home, and it was from this home that Jack's mother, my wife, was buried."
"Well?"
"I am quite certain that your aunt is keeping all of the things which were taken from my wife's person at the time of her death, and also the clothing Jack wore when he was rescued. I wish to obtain possession of those things, or, failing that, I want to get a minute description of them."
"Do you want me to get the things for you?"
"If you can."
"But my aunt may object to giving them up."
At this the face of Dr. Mackey fell.
"I'm afraid you don't quite understand me, Mr. Ruthven. I don't want your aunt to know anything about it."
"Oh!" St. John's face became a study. "You—er—you wish me to get the things on the sly?"