quare parcel,
done up in brown paper and sealed in several places with black wax. He
wanted to know when the next express would be leaving for London, and if
he could send the parcel by it. Martindale told him there would be an
express leaving for Selby very shortly, and there would be a connection
there for a Great Northern express to King's Cross. The gentleman then
wanted to know what time his parcel would be likely to be delivered in
London if he sent it by that train. Martindale told him that as near as
he could say it would be delivered by noon on the next morning, and added
that he could, by paying an extra fee, have it specially registered and
delivered. The gentleman at once acceded to this, handed the parcel
over, paid for it, and left. And in a few minutes after that, Martindale
himself gave the parcel to the guard of the outgoing train."

Chettle paused for a moment, and took a reflective pull at his glass.

"Now, then," he went on, after an evident recollecting of his facts,
"Martindale, of course, never saw the gentleman again, and dismissed such
a very ordinary matter from his mind. Early next morning he went off on
his holiday--where he went, right away up in Sutherland, papers were few
and far between. He only heard mere bits of news about all this affair.
But when he got back he turned up the Hull newspapers, and became
convinced that the man who sent that parcel was--your cousin!"

"Aye!" said Allerdyke, nodding his head. "Aye! I expected that."

"He was sure it was your cousin," continued Chettle, "from the
description of him in the papers, and from one or two photos of him that
had appeared, though, as you know, Mr. Allerdyke, those were poor things.
But to make sure, I showed him the photo which is inside Lydenberg's
watch-case. 'That's the man!' he said at once. 'I should have known him
again anywhere--I'd a particularly good look at him.' Very well--that
established who the sender of the parcel was. Now then, the next thing
was--to whom was it sent. Well, this Martindale had copied down the name
and address from the station books, and he handed me the slip of paper.
Can you make any guess at it, Mr. Allerdyke?"

"Damn guess-work!" replied Allerdyke. "Speak out!"

Chettle leaned nearer, with an instinctive glance at the door. He
lowered his voice to a whisper.

"That parcel was addressed to Franklin Fullaway, Esq., The Waldorf Hotel,
Aldwych, London," he said. "There!"

Allerdyke slowly ro