No; the winter of his discontent--a bitter winter--was due to the
conviction, which had been growing in his mind for some time, that he
was only in half the secret, and that not the more profitable half. He
knew that the old blighter had to be humored in certain small ways, as,
for example, in regard to the combination knife-and-fork--and the reason
for it. But, first, he did not know what happened inside the Tower; he
had never seen the inside of it; the door was always locked; he was never
invited to accompany his masters when they repaired thither by day, and
he was not on the premises by night. And, secondly, he did not understand
the Wednesday journeys to London, and he had never seen the inside of
Beaumaroy's brown bag--that, like the Tower door, was always locked. He
had handled it once, just before the pair set out for London one
Wednesday. Beaumaroy, a careless man sometimes, in spite of the cunning
which Dr. Irechester attributed to him, had left it on the parlor table
while he helped Mr. Saffron on with his coat in the passage, and the
Sergeant had swiftly and surreptitiously lifted it up.
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