Over his coat and waistcoat the other man's fingers travelled with curious dexterity.
The oilskin case in which Mr.Coulson was in the habit of keeping his private correspondence was reached in a very few minutes.

The stranger turned out the letters and read them, one by one, until he came to the one he sought.

He held it for a short time in his hand, looked at the address with a faint smile, and slipped his fingers lightly along the gummed edge of the envelope.
"No seal," he said softly to himself.

"My friend Mr.Coulson plays the game of travelling agent to perfection." He glided out of the cabin with the letter in his hand.

In about ten minutes he returned.