Arthur didn't examine the remaining contents of the leather wallet inside the tunnel.
He carefully wrapped it in the oilcloth again and slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.
"We're leaving."
Collins looked at him.
"You've waited weeks for something like this."
"I have."
"And now you're walking away?"
Arthur adjusted the lantern.
"No."
"I'm taking it somewhere no one can interrupt my thinking."
Without another word...
The two detectives began the long walk back through the underground passage.
---
The journey back was almost silent.
Arthur's thoughts remained fixed on one question.
Why here?
Henry could have hidden the wallet almost anywhere in London.
Instead...
He had chosen an abandoned loading chamber buried beneath the city.
A place no one would ever stumble across by accident.
Unless...
He wanted a detective to find it.
Not immediately.
Eventually.
Arthur found himself smiling.
Even after death...
Henry was still planning ahead.
---
Outside...
The afternoon sky had turned grey again.
London carried on as though nothing extraordinary had happened beneath its streets.
Carriages rolled through busy intersections.
Dockworkers unloaded cargo along the Thames.
Newspapers shouted yesterday's headlines.
Arthur climbed into the waiting carriage beside Collins.
Neither man spoke until Scotland Yard came into view.
---
An hour later...
Arthur locked the door to his office.
The leather wallet rested in the centre of his desk.
Collins stood nearby.
"So..."
Arthur carefully unfolded the oilcloth.
"We start with the obvious."
He emptied the contents one piece at a time.
A receipt.
A folded list of dates.
Two railway luggage claims.
A small brass token.
Nothing else.
Collins frowned.
"That's all?"
Arthur didn't answer.
He picked up the railway claims first.
Issued six months apart.
Different stations.
Different dates.
Yet...
Both had already been collected.
"Not important."
He placed them aside.
Next came the list of dates.
Arthur compared them with Henry's duty records.
Nothing unusual.
Every date matched an official assignment.
He sighed quietly.
Collins leaned against the desk.
"I was hoping for something a little more dramatic."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Henry wasn't dramatic."
"He was careful."
He reached for the final object.
The brass token.
About the size of a large coin.
Stamped with a faded number.
214.
Nothing else.
No company.
No address.
No initials.
Just a number.
Collins shrugged.
"A locker token?"
"Possibly."
"But from where?"
Arthur turned it over.
Years of handling had polished one edge smooth.
Henry had carried it often.
Not accidentally.
Deliberately.
Arthur opened Henry's personnel file.
Inside was a list of every item recovered after his death.
Watch.
Wallet.
Notebook.
Pocket knife.
Church keys.
No brass token.
His expression slowly changed.
Collins noticed immediately.
"What?"
Arthur looked from the report...
Back to the token.
"This wasn't on Henry when he died."
"So?"
Arthur held the token between two fingers.
"If it wasn't recovered from his body..."
"...then he hid it before he died."
Silence settled over the office.
Collins straightened.
"You think this is what he wanted someone to find?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
Instead...
He opened a large street directory of London.
Not searching for names.
Searching for systems.
Railway stations.
Warehouses.
Public lockers.
Hotels.
Anything that issued numbered brass tokens.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Still nothing.
Collins rubbed his eyes.
"Maybe it isn't from London."
Arthur was about to reply...
When his gaze stopped on a forgotten entry near the bottom of one page.
King's Cross Left Luggage Office
Items stored before the city's new numbering system...
Had once used plain brass identification tokens.
No company name.
No markings.
Only numbers.
Arthur immediately closed the directory.
"Collins."
"Yes?"
"When did they change the numbering system?"
Collins thought for a moment.
"About a year ago, I think."
Arthur looked back at the token.
Henry had died only days earlier.
If this token belonged to the old system...
It shouldn't still be in circulation.
Unless...
Whatever it belonged to...
Had never been collected.
Arthur slowly slipped the token back into his pocket.
"We're going to King's Cross."
Collins checked the clock on the wall.
"They'll be closed by the time we arrive."
Arthur nodded.
"I know."
"Then tomorrow?"
Arthur looked toward Henry's photograph pinned to the investigation board.
"For the first time since this case began..."
"I think Henry has finally started talking."
Outside...
The evening bells echoed across London.
Miles away...
Grace Whitlock carefully tucked her daughter into bed.
She lingered beside the little girl for a moment before quietly leaving the room.
As she passed the sitting room...
Her eyes drifted once again to the old music box resting on the table.
She paused.
For reasons she couldn't explain...
She picked it up.
This time...
She reached for the tiny screw Henry had replaced.
And somewhere beyond the glow of the city...
Inside the abandoned underground warehouse...
One man looked across a map of London and quietly closed his notebook.
Arthur Delbury had chosen the right path.
Now...
All he could do was wait and see how many people would try to stop him before he reached the truth.