For goodness' sake come
down and lend me a hand."
"Well, well, it just happens that I have already read all the
available evidence, including the report of the inquest, with
some care. By the way, what do you make of that tobacco-pouch
found on the scene of the crime? Is there no clue there?"
Hopkins looked surprised.
"It was the man's own pouch, sir. His initials were inside it.
And it was of seal-skin -- and he an old sealer."
"But he had no pipe."
"No, sir, we could find no pipe; indeed, he smoked very little.
And yet he might have kept some tobacco for his friends."
"No doubt. I only mention it because if I had been handling the
case I should have been inclined to make that the starting-point
of my investigation. However, my friend Dr. Watson knows
nothing of this matter, and I should be none the worse for
hearing the sequence of events once more. Just give us some
short sketch of the essentials."
Stanley Hopkins drew a slip of paper from his pocket.
"I have a few dates here which will give you the career of the
dead man, Captain Peter Carey. He was born in '45 -- fifty
years of age.
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