There was now no need to write to Philip's bank for a fresh book, which was his first daring expedient.
He seated himself at a table and wrote Philip's signature several times to test his hand. At last it was steady. Then he put a match to a fire all ready for lighting, and burned Philip's hat, collar, shirt and underclothing; also the blood-stained towel.
When the mass of clothing was smoldering black and red he threw a fresh supply of coal on top of it. The loss of the hat did not trouble him; he possessed one of the same shape and color.
He was quietly smoking a cigar, and practicing Philip's voice between the puffs, when Mason returned with the valet.
The scene, carefully rehearsed by Grenier in all its details, passed off with gratifying success. Purring with satisfaction, the chief scoundrel of the pair left in the Grange House by the astonished servant, began to overhaul the contents of Philip's bag.
It held the ordinary outfit of a gentleman who does not expect to pay a protracted visit—an evening dress suit, a light overcoat, a tweed suit, and a small supply of boots and linen. A tiny dressing case fitted into a special receptacle, and on top of this reposed a folded document.
Grenier opened it. Mason looked over his shoulder. It was headed:
"Annual Report of the Mary Anson Home for Destitute Boys."
Mason coarsely cursed both the home and its patron. But Grenier laughed pleasantly.
"The very thing," he cried. "Look here!"