“Anything else?” says the head chambermaid.

“Only one more favor,” says I.  “Would my boy Tom be very much in the way if he came, from now till ten, to help with the boots and shoes, and stood at his work close by this window which looks out on the staircase?”

“Not a bit,” says the head chambermaid.

“Thank you,” says I; and stepped back to my office directly.

When I had sent Tom off to help with the boots and shoes, I reviewed the whole case exactly as it stood at that time.

There were three things Mr. Davager might do with the letter.  He might give it to his friend again before ten—­in which case Tom would most likely see the said friend on the stairs.  He might take it to his friend, or to some other friend, after ten—­in which case Tom was ready to follow him on Sam the pony.  And, lastly, he might leave it hidden somewhere in his room at the inn—­in which case I was all ready for him with a search-warrant of my own granting, under favor always of my friend the head chambermaid.  So far I had my business arrangements all gathered up nice and compact in my own hands.  Only two things bothered me; the terrible shortness of the time at my disposal, in case I failed in my first experiments, for getting hold of the letter, and that queer inscription which I had copied out of the pocketbook: 

“MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS.”

It was the measurement most likely of something, and he was afraid of forgetting it; therefore it was something important.  Query—­something about himself?  Say “5” (inches) “along”—­he doesn’t wear a wig.  Say “5” (feet) “along”—­it can’t be coat, waistcoat, trousers, or underclothing.  Say “5” (yards) “along”—­it can’t be anything about himself, unless he wears round his body the rope that he’s sure to be hanged with one of these days.  Then it is not something about himself.  What do I know of that is important to him besides?  I know of nothing but the Letter.  Can the memorandum be connected with that?  Say, yes.  What do “5 along” and “4 across” mean, then?  The measurement of something he carries about with him? or the measurement of something in his room?  I could get pretty satisfactorily to myself as far as that; but I could get no further.

Tom came back to the office, and reported him mounted for his ride.  His friend had never appeared.  I sent the boy off, with his proper instructions, on Sam’s back—­wrote an encouraging letter to Mr. Frank to keep him quiet—­then slipped into the inn by the back way a little before half-past ten.  The head chambermaid gave me a signal when the landing was clear.  I got into his room without a soul but her seeing me, and locked the door immediately.

The case was, to a certain extent, simplified now.  Either Mr. Davager had ridden out with the letter about him, or he had left it in some safe hiding-place in his room.  I suspected it to be in his room, for a reason that will a little astonish you—­his trunk, his dressing-case, and all the drawers and cupboards, were left open.  I knew my customer, and I thought this extraordinary carelessness on his part rather suspicious.