The clergyman laughed lightly.
Owen did not echo his laugh. He stared at him in astonishment. “You mean to tell me, doctor, that you got that envelope from her?”
“Yes; let me explain how that happened: You see, originally the letter and money were in a white envelope—one of my own. I had it in my pocket when I reached Mr. Sammis’ office. I was going there to see him about church affairs, you know. The sight of the street letter box outside his office suddenly reminded me that I hadn’t mailed that letter. I took it out of my pocket, with the intention of doing so immediately, when it slipped from my hand and fell to the sidewalk. It had been raining quite heavily, and the sidewalks were very muddy. Of course, the letter fell address side downward—letters always do seem to fall that way, especially when it’s muddy—and when I picked it up I saw that it was not in a condition to send through the mails; the writing on the envelope was all blurred. So I stepped into the real-estate office, and requested the young lady seated at the typewriter to let me have a plain envelope. She had a box of square pink envelopes on the desk—her own private stationery, I presume—and she handed me one of those, explaining that it was the only kind she had which didn’t bear Mr. Sammis’ business card. I told her that would do very nicely. It was then I made that little joking remark that the color was most appropriate, as the person who received it would think it the pink of perfection.”
“And you put the money in the envelope in her presence?” exclaimed Owen gloomily.
“Yes, of course! Why shouldn’t I have done so? Bless my soul! You don’t think for a minute that a nice young woman like that wasn’t to be trusted, do you?”
A happy thought suddenly occurred to Owen. A plausible explanation of the mystery flashed through his[Pg 45] mind. He believed he understood now why Dallas had afterward sought to get possession of that letter.
“You say that she took the envelope from a box of private stationery which she had on her desk, Doctor Moore?” he inquired breathlessly.
“Yes; but really I cannot understand why you should lay such stress upon this unimportant incident.” The clergyman had not yet heard Pop Andrews’ story about handing the missing letter to Dallas, and consequently had no idea what Owen was getting at.
It had occurred to the inspector that it was quite possible that Dallas, intending to give Doctor Moore an empty envelope, had unwittingly handed him one which contained something of great value to her. She had not discovered her mistake until after the clergyman had dropped the letter into the box. Then, determined to get her property back, she had waited for the postman, and told him that little fib about the letter being hers, realizing that Pop Andrews would have refused to hand it to her if she had told him the truth.
That must be the solution to the mystery, thought Owen, and he drew a deep breath of relief. Dallas had acted unlawfully, of course, in claiming and opening a letter which was not hers; but, if this theory was correct, the circumstances were extenuating, and the thing wasn’t nearly as serious as it had looked.