The Lost Naval Papers | Page 3

lights though it was
high noon in May. "That's better," said he. "You are an absolutely
trustworthy man, Mr. Cary. I know all about you. But you are damned
careless. That bare window is overlooked from half a dozen flats. You
might as well do your work in the street."
Dawson picked up some of the papers, and their purport was explained
to him by Cary. "I don't know anything of naval details," said he, "but I
don't need any evidence of the value of the stuff here. The enemy wants
it, wants it badly; that is good enough for me."
"But," remonstrated Cary, "no one knows of these papers, or of the use
to which I am putting them, except my son in the Navy, my wife (who
has not read a line of them), and my publisher in London."
"Hum!" commented Dawson. "Then how do you account for this?"
He opened his leather despatch-case and drew forth a parcel carefully
wrapped up in brown paper. Within the wrapping was a large white
envelope of the linen woven paper used for registered letters, and
generously sealed. To Cary's surprise, for the envelope appeared to be
secure, Dawson cautiously opened it so as not to break the seal which
was adhering to the flap and drew out a second smaller envelope, also

sealed. This he opened in the same delicate way and took out a third;
from the third he drew a fourth, and so on until eleven empty envelopes
had been added to the litter piled upon Cary's table, and the twelfth, a
small one, remained in Dawson's hands.
"Did you ever see anything so childish?" observed he, indicating the
envelopes. "A big, registered, sealed Chinese puzzle like that is just
crying out to be opened. We would have seen the inside of that one
even if it had been addressed to the Lord Mayor, and not to--well,
someone in whom we are deeply interested, though he does not know
it."
Cary, who had been fascinated by the succession of sealed envelopes,
stretched out his hand towards one of them. "Don't touch," snapped out
Dawson. "Your clumsy hands would break the seals, and then there
would be the devil to pay. Of course all these envelopes were first
opened in my office. It takes a dozen years to train men to open sealed
envelopes so that neither flap nor seal is broken, and both can be again
secured without showing a sign of disturbance. It is a trade secret."
Dawson's expert fingers then opened the twelfth envelope, and he
produced a letter. "Now, Mr. Cary, if we had not known you and also
known that you were absolutely honest and loyal--though dangerously
simple-minded and careless in the matter of windows--this letter would
have been very awkward indeed for you. It runs: 'Hagan arrives 10.30
p.m. Wednesday to get Cary's Naval Notes. Meet him. Urgent.' Had we
not known you, Mr. Richard Cary might have been asked to explain
how Hagan knew all about his Naval Notes and was so very confident
of being able to get them."
Cary smiled. "I have often felt," said he, "especially in war-time, that it
was most useful to be well known to the police. You may ask me
anything you like, and I will do my best to answer. I confess that I am
aghast at the searchlight of inquiry which has suddenly been turned
upon my humble labours. My son at sea knows nothing of the Notes
except what I have told him in my letters, my wife has not read a line
of them, and my publisher is the last man to talk. I seem to have
suddenly dropped into the middle of a detective story." The poor man

scratched his head and smiled ruefully at the Scotland Yard officer.
"Mr. Cary," said Dawson, "those windows of yours would account for
anything. You have been watched for a long time, and I am perfectly
sure that our friend Hagan and his associates here know precisely in
what drawer of that desk you keep your Naval Papers. Your flat is easy
to enter--I had a look round before coming in to-day--and on
Wednesday night (that is to-morrow) there will be a scientific burglary
here and your Notes will be stolen."
"Oh no they won't," cried Cary. "I will take them down this afternoon
to my office and lock them up in the big safe. It will put me to a lot of
bother, for I shall also have to lock up there the chapters of my book."
"You newspaper men ought all to be locked up yourselves. You are a
cursed nuisance to honest, hard-worked Scotland Yard men like me.
But you mistake the object of my visit. I want this flat to be