ted; not because he was alone in the world (a situation
comprising many advantages), nor on the score of his wages, which were
extremely liberal; nor on account of the "old blighter's"--that is, Mr.
Saffron's--occasional outbursts of temper, these being in the nature of
the case and within the terms of the contract; nor, finally, by reason of
Beaumaroy's airy insolence, since from his youth up the Sergeant was
hardened to unfavorable comments on his personal appearance, trifling
vulgarities which a man of sense could afford to ignore.

No; the winter of his discontent--a bitter winter--was due to the
conviction, which had been growing in his mind for some time, that he
was only in half the secret, and that not the more profitable half. He
knew that the old blighter had to be humored in certain small ways, as,
for example, in regard to the combination knife-and-fork--and the reason
for it. But, first, he did not know what happened inside the Tower; he
had never seen the inside of it; the door was always locked; he was never
invited to accompany his masters when they repaired thither by day, and
he was not on the premises by night. And, secondly, he did not understand
the Wednesday journeys to London, and he had never seen the inside of
Beaumaroy's brown bag--that, like the Tower door, was always locked. He
had handled it once, just before the pair set out for London one
Wednesday. Beaumaroy, a careless man sometimes, in spite of the cunning
which Dr. Irechester attributed to him, had left it on the parlor table
while he helped Mr. Saffron on with his coat in the passage, and the
Sergeant had swiftly and surreptitiously lifted it up. It was very light,
obviously empty, or, at all events, holding only featherweight contents.
He had never got near it when it came back from town; then it always went
straight into the Tower and had the key turned on it forthwith.

But the Sergeant, although slow-witted as well as ugly, had had his
experiences; he had carried weights both in the army and in other
institutions which are officially described as His Majesty's, and had
seen other men carry them too. From the set of Beaumaroy's figure as he
arrived home on at least two occasions with the brown bag, and from the
way in which he handled it, the Sergeant confidently drew the conclusion
that it was of a considerable, almost a grievous, weight. What was the
heavy thing in it? What became of that thing after it was taken into the
Tower?