Theodore smiled, reflecting that any man who objected to cats would have fled from that stuffy parlour before now. “No, I am rather fond of them, as an inferior order of dog. Well, now, as to this discovery of yours, Mrs. Dugget?” “I’m coming to it as fast as I can, sir. You must know that there was a lot of waste paper in one of the closets beside the fireplace, and you are aware how roomy those closets in Ferret Court are. I never held with burning waste paper, first because it’s dangerous with regard to fire, and next because they’ll give you three shillings a sack for it at some of the paper mills; so I had always emptied the waste-paper baskets into this closet, which was made no other use of, and the bottom of the closet was chock-full of old letters, envelopes, pamphlets, and such like. So I took my sack, and I sat down on the floor and filled it. Now, as I was putting in the papers by handfuls—taking my time over it, for the painters wasn’t coming till the following Monday, and all my gentlemen was away on their holidays—I was struck by seeing such a number of envelopes addressed to the same name— ‘J. Danvers, Esq., ‘Myrtle Cottage, ‘Camberwell Grove.’ How did Mr. Dalbrook come to have all those envelopes belonging to Mr. Danvers? There must have been letters inside the envelopes, and what business had he with Mr. Danvers’s letters?” “They may have been letters bearing upon some case on which he was engaged,” said Theodore. “So they might, sir; but would _he_ have the letters?” asked the laundress shrewdly. “Wouldn’t that be the solicitor’s business?” “You are right, Mrs. Dugget. I see you have profited by your experience in the Temple.” “I had the curiosity to look at the post-marks on those envelopes, sir. There was over a hundred of ’em, I should think, some whole, and some torn across, and the post-marks told me that they spread over years. They most of ’em looked like tradesmen’s envelopes, and the Camberwell post-mark was on a good many of ’em. That closet hadn’t been cleared out for eight or nine years, to my knowledge, and those envelopes went back for the best part of that time, and the longer I looked at them the more I wondered who Mr. Danvers was.” “And did you come to any conclusion at last?” “Well, sir, I had my own idea about it, but it isn’t my place to say what that idea was.” “Come, come, Mrs. Dugget, you have no employer now, and you are beholden to no one. You are a free agent, and have a perfect right to give expression to your opinion.” “If I thought it would go no further, sir.” “It shall go no further.” “Very well then, sir, to be candid, I thought that James Dalbrook and J. Danvers, Esq., were the same person, and that Mr. Dalbrook had been living in Camberwell Grove under an assumed name.” “Would not that seem a very curious thing for a professional man in Mr. Dalbrook’s position to do?” inquired Theodore, gravely.