Someone had been here while we were at supper, and had examined elaborately everything I possessed.
Happily I had little luggage, and no papers save the new books and a bill or two in the name of Cornelius Brand.

The inquisitor, whoever he was, had found nothing ...

The incident gave me a good deal of comfort.
It had been hard to believe that any mystery could exist in this public place, where people lived brazenly in the open, and wore their hearts on their sleeves and proclaimed their opinions from the rooftops.

Yet mystery there must be, or an inoffensive stranger with a kit-bag would not have received these strange attentions.

I made a practice after that of sleeping with my watch below my pillow, for inside the case was Mary Lamington's label.