spitting and cursing, with murder in his eyes and a great
clasp-knife in his hand. He had not time to get it from the sheath
before I had the harpoon through him. Heavens! what a yell he gave; and
his face gets between me and my sleep! I stood there, with his blood
splashing round me, and I waited for a bit; but all was quiet, so I took
heart once more. I looked round, and there was the tin box on a shelf. I
had as much right to it as Peter Carey, anyhow, so I took it with me and
left the hut. Like a fool I left my baccy-pouch upon the table.

"Now I'll tell you the queerest part of the whole story. I had hardly
got outside the hut when I heard someone coming, and I hid among the
bushes. A man came slinking along, went into the hut, gave a cry as if
he had seen a ghost, and legged it as hard as he could run until he was
out of sight. Who he was or what he wanted is more than I can tell.
For my part I walked ten miles, got a train at Tunbridge Wells, and so
reached London, and no one the wiser.

"Well, when I came to examine the box I found there was no money in it,
and nothing but papers that I would not dare to sell. I had lost my hold
on Black Peter, and was stranded in London without a shilling. There was
only my trade left. I saw these advertisements about harpooners and high
wages, so I went to the shipping agents, and they sent me here. That's
all I know, and I say again that if I killed Black Peter the law should
give me thanks, for I saved them the price of a hempen rope."

"A very clear statement," said Holmes, rising and lighting his pipe. "I
think, Hopkins, that you should lose no time in conveying your prisoner
to a place of safety. This room is not well adapted for a cell, and Mr.
Patrick Cairns occupies too large a proportion of our carpet."

"Mr. Holmes," said Hopkins, "I do not know how to express my gratitude.
Even now I do not understand how you attained this result."

"Simply by having the good fortune to get the right clue from the
beginning. It is very possible if I had known about this note-book
it might have led away my thoughts, as it did yours. But all I heard
pointed in the one direction. The amazing strength, the skill in the use
of the harpoon, the rum and water, the seal-skin tobacco-pouch, with the
coarse tobacco--all these pointed to a seaman, and one who had been a
whaler. I was convinced that the initials 'P.C.' upon the pouch were a
coincidence, and not those of Peter Carey, since h