First the sole-leather trunk, from which he had taken the hapless dressing-case the night before, was pulled out and the heavy black tin box hauled into position and unlocked.

With the raising of the scarred and dented top a mass of letters and papers came into view, filling the box to the brim--some tied with red tape, others in big envelopes.

In a corner lay some photographs--one in a gilt frame, the edge showing clear of the tissue-paper in which it was wrapped.

This he took out and studied long and earnestly, his lips tightly pressed together.

Retying the paper, he tucked them all back into place, turned the key, shook the box to see that the lock held tight, picked it up with one hand by its side handle, and, throwing open the door, deposited it on the landing outside.