them.

"It is all here," said Mr. Middleton, when he had counted the bills
brought by Dr. Darst. "I shall now see that Mr. Brockelsby is taken
back to the office whence you took him."

"Pardon me," said Dr. Darst, "how in the world did you know we took
him from his office? How did you ferret it all out?"

"I cannot tell you that," said Mr. Middleton. "I shall take him back
to the office. He will be found there later in the day, just as you
found him. You are wise enough to make no inquiries concerning him, to
watch for no news of developments. Indeed, to make in some measure an
alibi, should it be needed, you had better leave town by next train
for the rest of the day. If it were known you were with Mr. Brockelsby
at any time, might it not be thought that you were responsible for the
condition he was found in?"

The doctors boarded the very next train, and Mr. Middleton, serene in
the knowledge that no one would disturb him now, had the box taken
back and set up in the main office. A slight thump in the box as it
was ended up against the wall, caused Mr. Middleton to believe that
Mr. Brockelsby was now resting on his head, but he resolved to allow
this unavoidable circumstance to occasion him no disquiet. Going to a
large department store where a sale of portieres was in progress, he
purchased some portieres and a number of other things. The portieres
he draped over the box, concealing its bare pine with shimmering
cardinal velvet and turning it into the semblance of a cabinet. Lest
any inquisitive hand tear it away, he placed six volumes of Chitty and
a bust of Daniel Webster upon the top and tacked two photographs of
Mr. Brockelsby upon the front. Confident that no one would disturb the
receptacle containing his employer, he went into court and after a
short but exceedingly spirited legal battle in which he displayed a
forensic ability, a legal lore, and a polished eloquence which few of
the older members of the Chicago bar could have equalled, he won a
signal victory.

Although it was not his intention to set about restoring Mr.
Brockelsby until an hour that would ensure him against likelihood of
interruption, he returned to the office to see if by any untoward
mischance anybody could have interfered with the box. To his surprise,
he found Mrs. Brockelsby seated before that object of vertu with her
eye straying abstractedly over the cardinal portieres, the photographs
of Mr. Brockelsby, the bust of Daniel Webs