To tell the truth, I was now little less perplexed than the office-boy
by Thorndyke's proceedings; in which I could discover no relevancy to
the investigation that I presumed he was engaged upon: and the last
straw was laid upon the burden of my curiosity when he stopped at a
staircase window, drew the note out of his pocket, examined it with his
lens, held it up to the light, and chuckled aloud.
"Luck," he observed, "though no substitute for care and intelligence, is
a very pleasant addition. Really, my learned brother, we are doing
uncommonly well."
When we reached the hall, Thorndyke stopped at the housekeeper's box,
and looked in with a genial nod.
"I have just been up to see Mr. Barlow," said he. "He seems to have left
quite early."
"Yes, sir," the man replied. "He went away about half-past eight."
"That was very early; and presumably he came earlier still?"
"I suppose so," the man assented, with a grin; "but I had only just come
on when he left."
"Had he any luggage with him?"
"Yes, sir. There was two cases, a square one and a long, narrow one,
about five foot long.
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