"You cannot give them to me?" he repeated.
"No. Moreover the packet is sealed. I do not see, on second thoughts, what harm I can do you--now that the packet is out of your father's hands--by keeping it until to-morrow, when I will return it to your brother, from whom it came."
"He will not be in London," he answered doggedly. He stepped between me and the door with looks which I did not like. At the same time I felt that some allowance must be made for a man treated in this way.
"I am sorry," I said, "but I cannot do what you ask. I will do this, however. If you think the delay of importance, and will give me your brother's address in Liverpool, I will undertake to post the letters to him at once."
He considered the offer, eyeing me the while with the same disfavour which he had exhibited in the drawing-room. At last he said slowly--
"If you will do that?"
"I will," I repeated. "I will do it immediately."
He gave me the direction--"George Ritherdon, at the London and North-Western Hotel, Liverpool," and in return I gave him my own name and address. Then I parted from him, with a civil good night on either side--and little liking--the clocks striking midnight, and the servants coming in as I passed into the cool darkness of the square.
Late as it was, I went straight to my club, determined that, as I had assumed the responsibility, there should be no laches on my part. There I placed the packet, together with a short note explaining how it came into my possession, in an outer envelope, and dropped the whole, duly directed and stamped, into the nearest pillar-box. I could not register it at that hour, and rather than wait until next morning, I omitted the precaution, merely requesting Mr. Ritherdon to acknowledge its receipt.
Some days passed during which it may be imagined that I thought no little about my odd experience. It was the story of the Lady and the Tiger over again. I had the choice of two alternatives--at least. I might either believe the young fellow's story, which certainly had the merit of explaining in a fairly probable manner an occurrence which did not lend itself freely to explanation. Or I might disbelieve his story, plausible in its very strangeness as it was, in favour of my own vague suspicions. Which was I to do?