"I don't know if I could tell you," said Garrett mendaciously, "in some public place. But you hadn't finished."
"Really I had nothing much to add, only that John Eldred, of course, paid no attention whatever to my letters, and has enjoyed the estate ever since, while my daughter and I have had to take to the lodging-house business here, which I must say has not turned out by any means so unpleasant as I feared it might."
"But about the envelope."
"To be sure! Why, the puzzle turns on that. Give Mr. Garrett the paper out of my desk.” It was a small slip, with nothing whatever on it but five numerals, not divided or punctuated in any way: 11334.
Mr. Garrett pondered, but there was a light in his eye. Suddenly he "made a face," and then asked, "Do you suppose that Mr. Eldred can have any more clue than you have to the title of the book?"
"I have sometimes thought he must," said Mrs. Simpson, “and in this way: that my uncle must have made the will not very long before he
