338
On Tuesday morning, Klein got up and washed. He had just entered the kitchen to prepare breakfast when he heard a knock at his door.
The visitor was a man in a dark green postman's uniform. He gave Klein an ingratiating smile.
"Are you Mr. Sherlock Moriarty?"
"Yes." Klein had a vague guess as to why he had come.
The visitor immediately raised his right hand and handed over a palm-sized object wrapped in layers of black gauze.
"Your parcel. Please sign for it."
Klein deliberately showed his confusion.
"Wouldn't you normally give me a slip and have me collect it from the corresponding post office myself?"
The Loen Kingdom's postal system was a perfect copy of Intis's, right down to quite a few of its shortcomings. For any mail that could not be stuffed directly into a letterbox, whatever it was, they would only provide a collection slip and leave the recipient to do the running around. They knew absolutely nothing of innovation or optimization.
"...Haha, since it's rather valuable, we have to deliver it into your hands personally," the postman said after a moment's hesitation.
Looks like you aren't professional enough. You aren't a real postman... Klein asked no further questions. He accepted the parcel, fountain pen, and slip, then briskly signed for it.
After closing the front door and returning to the living room, he did not rush to open the parcel. Instead, he took out a gold coin and flicked it into the air like a juggler.
Smack!
Klein caught the coin and glanced down at it. The number is facing up. That means no-there's no hidden danger... He nodded slightly, put away the coin, felt the paper figurine in his pocket, and checked the matches on the windowsill and in concealed spots outside it.