realised that Gaffkin had made some important discovery, and hastened to shut the door.
"Found something out?" he asked. "Something really pertinent?"
"I think so," answered Gaffkin, laying stress on the personal pronoun.
"I do indeed. I’d have got back last night if I could, Mr. Brixey. I made this discovery yesterday afternoon late, but there wasn't a train. So I caught the very first one this morning."
"What is it?" demanded Brixey, pointing to the sealed packet. "In there?"
"The papers are in here," said Gaffkin. He glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece.
"We can’t go into it now he added. "It’ll be a long and serious business. And, to tell you the truth, I’m famishing. I’ve had nothing since eight o’clock."
Just then the waiter came in to lay the cloth for lunch, and Brixey had to restrain his impatience. He had to restrain it again, not being particularly hungry himself, while Gaffkin ate and drank. It seemed to him that the meal—a typically English country hotel Sunday dinner—was never coming to an end. But he knew that Gaffkin had been hard at it since they parted, and he encouraged him to enjoy himself. Moreover, when the waiter had removed the cloth, he ordered in a bottle of Brackett’s best port, knowing that his companion had an old-fashioned taste for that wine.
Gaffkin sipped his first glass with great satisfaction, remarked dryly that a man felt much better disposed towards important business when he had dined well, and, drawing the packet towards him, broke the seals and cut the strings.
"I don’t know what Mr. Linthwaite would say, sir, if he knew that I’d been going through his private papers," he remarked, glancing slyly at Brixey, "but as I'd your authority and warranty I made a pretty exhaustive search. And I'll tell you what I went for, Mr. Brixey.
"I thought the whole matter carefully over as I journeyed up to town yesterday morning, and I came to the conclusion that I’d better stick to a definite object—this object. We know that Mesham is a man who used to come, twice a year, to Mr. Linthwaite’s for money, calling himself Mr. X.
"Very well, it struck me that I’d better look for receipts for those payments, in the hope of getting at Mesham’s real name. And I’ve found receipts. Not in Mesham’s name, you may be sure, but if they don’t refer to Mesham I shall be astonished. Personally, I’ve no doubt of it, because of the dates, and the regularity of those dates. But we’ll go through things in order."
Gaffkin had by this time opened his packet. Prom it he drew a small, thin quarto manuscript book, bound in sheepskin, and furnished with a clasp. This he laid aside. He also took out two bundles of folded papers, each tied up with red tape; these he arranged before him.
"Now, look here, sir," he began, tapping the two bundles with his forefinger. "There are two series of receipts, going back for thirty years, precisely, from this present year. They refer to half-yearly payments which Mr. Linthwaite, first as Mr. John Herbert, afterwards as Mr. John Linthwaite, has been in the habit of making to two persons, evidently beneficiaries under a will of which Mr. Linthwaite is trustee and executor.
"From the wording of the receipts you will see that the will in question was that of one James Melsome; the names of the two beneficiaries are Cradock Melsome and Charles Melsome."
"Melsome—Melsome" said Brixey. "The name's somewhat familiar—at least, I've heard it. Some distant relation of my uncle's, I fancy."
"Precisely the conclusion I've come to, as I'll show you presently," agreed Gaffkin, pointing to the sheepskin-bound book. "That they are relations, certain entries in this book seem to prove.
"Well, now, I want you to look at these receipts. Mr. Linthwaite is, as you know, a highly methodical man, and they're all duly arranged in order. Let's examine those of Cradock Melsome first. Now observe the date of the first—March 28, 1889. The wording of the receipt in that of receipt is practically that of all the rest.
"'Received from John Herbert, Esquire, the sum of seventy-five pounds under the will of James Melsome deceased
"Now," continued Gaffkin, "observe, as we go through them, that these receipts of Cradock Melsome's are dated from various places. They begin in London. Later, they are from Boulogne. Still later they are from New York.
"And for the last ten or eleven years, right up to the last, they have been from Quebec, where, it's very evident, this Cradock Melsome must have settled. The last receipt, you see, Mr. Brixey, was sent from Quebec six months ago."