But you mentioned a packet which the general had intended for me." "It is here," he answered, drawing a small, flat parcel from his pocket and handing it over to me, "you will find, no doubt, that it will explain all which has been so mysterious." The packet was sealed at each end with black wax, bearing the impress of the flying griffin, which I knew to be the general's crest.

It was further secured by a band of broad tape, which I cut with my pocket-knife.

Across the outside was written in bold handwriting: "J.
Fothergill West, Esq.," and underneath: "To be handed to that gentleman in the event of the disappearance or decease of Major-General J.B.
Heatherstone, V.C., C.B., late of the Indian Army." So at last I was to know the dark secret which had cast a shadow over our lives.

Here in my hands I held the solution of it.
With eager fingers I broke the seals and undid the wrapper.

A note and a small bundle of discoloured paper lay within.