But when he reached London he found a fresh development had taken place, and his thoughts for some time to come were led into a completely new channel. CHAPTER SEVEN Posthumous Evidence The cause of Inspector French’s change of outlook on the Starvel case was a note from Sergeant Kent which was waiting for him on his arrival at Scotland Yard. The sergeant wrote enclosing a letter addressed to “The Heirs or Assigns of the late Mr. John Roper, Starvel, Thirsby, Yorkshire, W.R.” The postmaster, he explained, had shown it to him, asking him if he knew to whom it should be forwarded. Though he did not suppose it could have anything to do with the tragedy, the sergeant thought that French should see it. “No good,” French thought. “Nothing to me.” Nevertheless he slit open the envelope and withdrew the contents. It was a letter headed “The Metropolitan Safe Deposit Co., Ltd., 25b King William Street, City,” and read as follows:— “Dear Sir or Madam,—We beg to remind you that the late Mr. John Roper of Starvel, Thirsby, Yorkshire, W.R., was the holder of a small safe in our strongrooms. The rent of the safe, 30/- (thirty shillings stg.) is now due, and we should be glad to receive this sum from you or alternatively to have your instructions as to disposal of its contents. “Yours faithfully, “For The Metropolitan Safe Deposit Co., Ltd.” To French it seemed a rather unusual thing that a man in Roper’s position should require the services of a safe deposit company. He could not but feel a certain curiosity regarding the object which required such careful guarding. As things were he supposed he had as much right as anybody to deal with the affair, and as it was but a short distance to King William Street, he decided he would go down and investigate. Half an hour later he was explaining the position to the manager. As far as was known, Roper had no relatives or heirs. His safe would therefore be given up, and on behalf of Scotland Yard, he, French, would take charge of its contents. The contents in question proved to be a small sealed envelope, and when French had once again reached the seclusion of his own office he tore it open and ran his eye over its enclosure. As he did so his eyes grew round and he gave vent to a low, sustained whistle. To say that he was at that moment the most astonished man in London would be a very inadequate description of his sensations. The enclosure consisted of a single sheet of gray note paper with an address, “Braeside, Kintillock, Fife,” printed in small embossed letters at the top. One side was covered with writing, a man’s hand, cultivated, but somewhat tremulous. It read:—