He was busy writing at his desk when Wilkins’ discreet tap sounded on his door, and at his bidding the butler entered and closed the door behind him.
“Good morning, Wilkins; sorry to keep you waiting, but I was delayed.”
“Morning, sir. That’s all right, sir. Miss Beatrice wanted me to be sure and see you received her note, and told me to come over here before you left for your office. I was to be particular and get an answer.”
“I am writing it now. I’m much obliged to you for returning my cuff link. By the way, where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it, sir. The second man took up the large rug near the fireplace to shake it in the yard yesterday morning and saw the bit of jewelry lying under one corner. He brought it to me, and as I knew you had broken your cuff button, sir, I was pretty sure it was yours.”
“Quite right, Wilkins, and here’s a small token of my thanks,” handing the butler some change. And as the man thanked him profusely, Dick held up the coin, and asked: “Who does this belong to?”
Wilkins stared at it in astonishment. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Oh, come, Wilkins, I picked it up in the hall under the armor the other night, thinking it was my cuff link. Surely, you know who owns it?”
Wilkins turned it over curiously in his hand; then shook his head. “I have never seen it before, sir,” he said, positively.
Dick sat for a few moments thoughtfully nibbling his pen. He recollected that the Attorney General’s watch chain was a plain gold affair, very different from the link in his hand.