Arthur never loosened his grip on the satchel.
Even after the carriage rolled through the gates of Scotland Yard...
Even after he climbed the stone staircase to his office...
His hand remained firmly wrapped around the leather strap.
Collins noticed.
"You think someone followed us."
Arthur unlocked the office door.
"I think someone may have wanted us to find that box."
He entered first.
Collins followed, closing the door behind him.
Arthur immediately crossed to the window.
The courtyard below looked ordinary.
Constables moved between buildings.
A messenger hurried across the rain-soaked yard.
Nothing appeared unusual.
He pulled the curtains shut anyway.
---
The wooden box rested in the centre of his desk.
Neither detective spoke.
Arthur slowly removed his coat.
Rolled up his sleeves.
Then sat down.
"This stays between us."
Collins nodded.
"Agreed."
Arthur unclasped the box.
The lid opened exactly as it had inside King's Cross.
The familiar oilcloth.
