"Yellow wax and yellow string and all?"

"Yes, so far as I remember. It was Mr. Henson who reminded my uncle about
his medicine."

"And when you were away the change was made. Strange that your uncle
should be so friendly with both Henson and Bell. Have they ever met under
your roof?"

"No," Ruth replied. "Henson has always alluded to Dr. Bell as a lost man.
He professes to be deeply sorry for him but he has declined to meet him.
Where are you going?"

"I am going with you to see if we can find anything in the waste-paper
basket at No. 219. Bell tells me that your servants have instructions to
touch no papers, and I know that the back sitting-room of your house is
used as a kind of office. I want, if possible, to find the paper that
Henson tried to hide on the day you bought the cigar-case."

The basket proved to be a large one, and was partially filled with
letters that had never been opened--begging-letters, Ruth said. For half
an hour David was engaged in smoothing out crumpled sheets of paper,
until at length his search was rewarded. He held a packet of note-paper,
the usual six sheets, one inside the other, that generally go to
correspondence sheets of good quality. It was crushed up, but Steel
flattened it out and held it up for Ruth's inspection.

"Now, here is a find!" he cried. "Look at the address in green at the
top: '15, Downend Terrace.' Five sheets of my own best notepaper, printed