“So Jimmie thrust the securities and father's confession into an envelope and sealed it with red wax, using Barbara's seal,” explained Helen. “He hadn't time to write an address or message on it, but he told me to return the envelope to him later in the day or give it to Philip Rochester and ask his aid. I brought it here on Wednesday morning and with Harry's permission put the envelope in the safe.”
“I tried to get it from there,” volunteered Sylvester, “for I overheard Turnbull's plan, before I left by the reception room window.”
“So it was you and not Mr. Rochester whom I saw steal out of the window,” exclaimed Mrs. Brewster.
“It's not the first time I've been mistaken for him,” exclaimed Sylvester calmly.
Kent started and, gazing at Rochester and the clerk, saw there was a general resemblance in coloring and physique.
“Did you present the checks to McDonald at the Metropolis Trust Company bearing Rochester's and my forged signatures?” he asked.
“I did,” acknowledged Sylvester. “Mr. Rochester's wardrobe came in very handy for deceiving the casual glance. You know, 'clothes make the man, and want of it the fellow.'”
Kent looked up quickly, struck by an idea.
“Sylvester, did you steal the envelope containing the securities from me at the Club de Vingt?” he asked.
Sylvester shook his head. “No, but she did,” pointing to Mrs. Brewster. “It's no lie,” as McIntyre uttered an indignant denial. “When Ferguson left here carrying off the securities from under my nose almost—I had spent the whole day trying to learn the safe's combination; I trailed him to the Club de Vingt, and heard the head waiter tell him you, Mr. Kent, were sitting in the small smoking porch, so I climbed up the trumpet vine; oh, it was strong and no climb for one who has done the feats I have in the circus. I reached the porch just in time to see Mrs. Brewster drop her fan, and when the men bent to pick it up she 'lifted' the envelope and concealed it under her scarf.”