Ravensdene Court

n his own somewhat mysterious doings on the morning of the murder; a half-excited, anticipating curiosity rose in me. I think he saw it, for he signed to me

a sensible young fellow, and we'll take a bit of counsel together. Aye-there was that in my pocket-book that might be-I'll not say positively that it was, but that it might be-a clue to the identity of the man that murdered yon Salter Quick, and I'm sorry no

were bathing, Mr. Cazalette?" I ask

hich hung on a peg in a recess by the washstand. I knew it wel

t is, and homespun. And whenever I've gone out here of a morning, I've put my pocket-book in the inside pocket, and laid the coat itself and the rest o' my scanty attire on

ody about?"

right down to the edge of the bit of cliff-well, a man lurking amongst the shrubs and undergrowth 'ud have nothing to do but reach his arm to the bank, draw

clue?"

er to me, and dropped

ce, I'd been there before you. You'll wonder how it comes about that I didn't find what you found, but then, there's a many big rocks and boulders standing well up on that beach, and its very evident that th

, and have done with it; his circumlocution was getting wearisome. But he was one of those

n the morning breeze that came sharp and refreshing off the face of the water, a handkerchief. And there was two sorts o' stains on it-caused in the one case by mud-the soft mud of the adjacent beach-and in the other by blood. A smear of blood-as if somebody had wiped blood off his fingers, you'll understand. But it was not that, not the blood, made me give my particular attention to the thing, which I'd picked off with my thumb and finger. It w

markings you sp

man of quality! And the stains being wet-the mud-stains, at any rate, though the smear of blood was dry-I gathered that it had been but recently deposited, by accident, where I found it. I reckoned it up this way, d'ye see, Middlebrook-the man who'd left it there had

it, Mr. Cazalette?" I inqu

liking that I should put the blood-stained thing down on my dressing-table there and cause the maids to wonder, I thrust it into a hedge as I was passing along, till I could go back and examine it at my leisure. And when I'd got myself dressed, I went back and took it, and put it in a stout envelope into my poc

e handkerchief was in the pocket-book yo

discovery of it, all in order. Aye, and there was more. Letters and papers of my own, to be sure, and a trifle money-bank-notes. But there was yet another thing that, in view of all w

s he made this announcement, and not know

d, as you might say, but still spoken of, and things spread, that I was keenly interested in those marks, scratches, whatever they were, on the inside of that li

so?" said I. "Why-

lling you, Middlebrook, that this was no common murder any more than the murder of the man's own brother down yonder at Saltash, which is a Cornish riverside place, and a good four or five hundred miles away, was a common

ick's murderer was miles away before e

venerable pocket-book, with those two exhibits o' the crime in its wame. The murderer is about! and though he mayn't hav

our labours? I don't suppose that the print which wa

que, he was mistaken. But-I didn't want him, or anybody, to get hold of even one print, for as s

itself has been stolen from the p

the plural-that's uncommonly anxious, feverishly anxious, to get hold of that key that I suspicion. What were Salter Quick's pockets turned out for? What were the man's clothes slashed and hacked for? Why

key is in the marks or scratches or whatever t

anything to the police, I should ha' shown some common-sense. But like the blithering old idiot that I am, I spoke my thoughts aloud before a company, and I made a present of an

erers were present when you asked permission to

n Raven's outhouse yonder, where they carried the poor fellow's body, but there were a dozen or more men heard what I said to t

d I, "I'd just like

extracted a sheet of cardboard, whereon he had mounted a photograph, beneath which, on the cardboard, were some lines of explanator

idently made with the point of a knife, or even by a strong pin on the surface of the metal. Certainly, the ma

lad?" he inquired aft

lette!" I replied.

nfessed. "And yet, I'm certain there's something i

he photograph, Mr. Cazalette's explanatory notes and suggestions: I sat studying t

that's in the secret, to a certain point, might know-but who else could? I've speculated a deal on the m

ce that Salter Quick

ants to know of!" he exclaimed

ing Quick's questions to me and his evident eagerness to acqu

there isn't a Netherfield buried anywhere about this region! No, it's my belief that this is a key to some spot in foreign parts, a

n't have been the thief's object. You see, it must be pretty well known that you go down there to bathe every morning, and are in t

around us there's what I say-crafty and bloody murderers

nd his niece. Joining them, we found that their subject of conversation was the same that had just engaged Mr. Cazalette and myself-the tobacco-box. It turned out that the police-inspector had been round to Lorrimore'

aid upstairs.) "And I told the inspector something else, or, rather, put him in mind of something he'd evidently forgotten," continued Lorrimore. "That inquest, or, to be precise, the adjourned inquest, was attended by a good many strangers, who had evidently been attracted by mere curiosity. There were a lot of people there who certainly did not belong to thi

liant and accomplished conversationalist, and the time passed pleasantly until, as we men were lingering a little over our wine, and Miss Raven was so

him a detective-from Devonport. They are anxious to see me