The man shook his head.
“Nor where my things have been stored?”
Again the man shook his head.
“It was a big pantechnicon, sir,” he said, “but to the best of my knowledge there was no name on it. I believe it did strike me as being rather funny at the time, but I was busy and didn't take much account of it. It is a most unaccountable thing, sir—most unaccountable. I cannot understand it at all. Have you any idea, sir, who your friend might be?”
Westerham shook his head, though in his own mind he had little doubt.
“Well,” he said briskly, “I must inform the police at once. This is a very serious matter. It is not so much the loss of the things that annoys me, but the inconvenience to which I am put.”
He looked at the man sharply, and endeavoured to ascertain whether he could trust him. He decided that the man looked honest, and slipped a half-sovereign into his hand.
“In the meantime,” he said to him, “say nothing to anyone. I will deal with this matter in my own way.”
Deciding to take the bull by the horns at once, Westerham hailed a passing hansom and drove to Melun's rooms, only, however, to be informed that the captain was out of town. He tried threats, cajolery and even bribery to extort information as to the captain's whereabouts; but the housekeeper was proof against all his efforts.
It seemed as if she really did not know where the captain was.