But the records, when at last they were produced, revealed neither the name of Mrs. Root nor the fact that any one had registered two large trunks by that train. French discussed the possibility of those in question having been taken unregistered. It seemed that this was possible, but most unlikely. In any case, had it been done, the clerk believed the Customs people would have noted it. But it would take some time to find out. “Don’t trouble about it,” French told him; “at least, not in the meantime.” Suppose this woman crook was impersonating Mrs. Root, as he believed she was, would she not, as soon as she had disposed of the diamonds, seek to vanish and to resume her real personality? If so, did this not involve getting rid of the trunks? Did she really require them, or had they served their purpose when they reached Victoria? As a forlorn hope, he decided he would act on this idea. Suppose she wanted to get rid of them, how would she do it? There were several ways, but he felt satisfied that the easiest and best would be simply to leave them in the left luggage office. A considerable time would elapse before any question would arise about them, and it would then probably only take the form of their being opened by the railway company, and their contents sold for what they would bring. He went round to the left luggage office and propounded his inquiry. And immediately he received a pleasant surprise. The clerk to whom he was referred smiled, and turning over some papers, pointed to an item. It read, “Two large American trunks: White Star labels, S. S. _Olympic_. Mrs. Chauncey S. Root, passenger to Southampton.” “Bit of luck for you, sir,” the clerk remarked. “I was looking over the list only to-day, and I noticed the item. Boxes were left in on 26th of last month, and have not been claimed.” “I want to open them and perhaps take them to the Yard.” The necessary authority was soon obtained, and French followed the clerk to a huge room stored with luggage of all descriptions. Calling the porter in charge, they were conducted to a corner in which stood two large boxes, and French, looking at the labels, found they were those of which he was in search. “Pull those out, George,” the clerk directed, “so as this gentleman can open them, and let him take them away if he wants to. That all you want, sir?” French, left to himself, began by satisfying himself that the handwriting on the labels was the same as that of the cheques. Then, taking a bunch of skeleton keys from his pockets, he set to work on the locks. In a few moments both stood open. For a space he stood staring down in amazement at their contents. They were full of blankets! Just new, thin blankets of a poor cheap quality. They were fairly tightly packed, and completely filled the trunks. He took out the blankets, and opening each out, shook it to make sure that no small article was concealed in the folds. But there was nothing.