news of this other man. What do you know of Mr. Gilverthwaite, now?"

"Nothing!" said I.

"But he's lodged with you seven weeks?" said he.

"If you'd known him, sergeant," I answered, "you'd know that he was this
sort of man--you'd know no more of him at the end of seven months than
you would at the end of seven weeks, and no more at the end of seven
years than at the end of seven months. We knew nothing, my mother and I,
except that he was a decent, well-spoken man, free with his money and
having plenty of it, and that his name was what he called it, and that he
said he'd been a master mariner. But who he was, or where he came from, I
know no more than you do."

"Well, he'll have papers, letters, something or other that'll throw some
light on matters, no doubt?" he suggested. "Can you say as to that?"

"I can tell you that he's got a chest in his chamber that's nigh as heavy
as if it were made of solid lead," I answered. "And doubtless he'll have
a key on him or about him that'll unlock it. But what might be in it, I
can't say, never having seen him open it at any time."

"Well," he said, "I'll have to bring the superintendent down, and we must
trouble your mother to let us take a look at this Mr. Gilverthwaite's
effects. Had he a doctor to him since he was taken ill?"

"Dr. Watson--this--I mean yesterday--afternoon," I answered.

"Then there'll be no inquest in his case," said the sergeant, "for the