I got my hat and walking stick. On the way up to the store Godfrey preserved an air of mysterious importance. I had no objection whatever to his doing this; because he could not talk and look mysterious at the same time, and I particularly dislike being talked to by Godfrey. I expect he tried to be dignified with a view to impressing me, but just before we reached the store he broke down and babbled fatuously. "Marion told me yesterday," he said, "that she'd had a letter from that fellow Power." "She told me that too," I said. "Well, I think you ought to put a stop to it. It's not right." "My dear Godfrey," I said, "you appear to forget that he's one of the Powers of Kilfenora and private secretary to a millionaire." This twofold appeal to the highest and strongest feelings which Godfrey possesses ought to have silenced him. He did, I think, feel the force of what I said. But he was not satisfied. "If you knew all that was going on," he said, "you wouldn't like it." We reached the store. The young woman who controls the sale of miscellaneous goods was alert and smiling behind her counter. Whatever Crossan might be doing she at all events was attending to her business. Godfrey took no notice of her. He led me through the shop to the yard behind it. He pushed open the door of one of the outhouses. "That door ought to be locked," he said. This was true. I was somewhat surprised to find it open. "I forced the lock this morning," said Godfrey, "with a screw driver." "In that case," I said, "you can hardly blame Crossan for its being open. Why did you do it?" "I wanted to see what he had inside," said Godfrey, "and I wanted you to see." There was a good deal inside. In fact the outhouse, a large building, was filled from floor to ceiling with packing-cases, some of them very large indeed. Godfrey pointed to a small one near the door. "Just lift that up, will you, Excellency?" said Godfrey. "No, I won't. Why should I? I'm not a railway porter, and it looks heavy." "It is heavy. Just watch me for a moment if you don't want to lift it yourself." Godfrey with evident difficulty lifted the packing-case, staggered a few steps with it and then set it down. The packing-case may have been heavy but it was quite small. It seemed to me that Godfrey was making a rather pitiful exhibition of his physical feebleness. "You ought to do things with dumb bells," I said. "The muscles of your arms are evidently quite soft." Godfrey took no notice of the taunt. He was in a state of tremendous moral earnestness. "I want your permission to open these cases," he said. "I won't give you any such permission," I said. "How can I? They're not my packing-cases."