“Nothing in it but spare clothing, I should say,” remarked the factor. “It’s a common enough type and was made and sold in Quebec. I know the brand.”
“You are right, sir; the trunk did not come from England,” said the law clerk.
“But you will surely open it, so that all doubt may be set at rest.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort,” Macdonald answered curtly. “Your request is impossible. I have no right to touch the trunk. How do I know that Osmund Maiden is not alive—that he will not turn up with the receipt some day?”
“I admit the possibility of that,” said Christopher Burley. “Indeed, I prefer to take that view of the matter myself. But consider my perplexing situation, sir. I have reason to think that the trunk contains papers—not only documents to prove Osmund Maiden’s identity, but a statement of what his future plans were when he left Fort Garry. And by that means I will learn where to search for him—how to trace his afterlife. I can’t return to England until I have either proved him dead or found him alive.”
“I must be true to my trust,” he replied. “Only legal measures can empower me to open this trunk, and you can take steps to that effect if you please. You know better than I if such a remedy is within your reach. In the eyes of the law I admit Osmund Maiden would probably be accounted dead.”
“But my dear sir, the plan you suggest would involve a journey to England and back, not to mention the delay in the Quebec courts.”
“It is the only course, Mr. Burley. And you must remember, for my side of the case, that you have not let me into your confidence. Why are you searching for this man?”
“I could speedily satisfy you on that point,” the law clerk said slowly; “but this is not the time to do so. I am acting for my employers—Parchmont & Tolliver, of Lincoln’s Inn, London. They are a well-known and honorable firm of solicitors, and it is of importance to them that Osmund Maiden should be found.”