ah Quick, The Admiral Parker, Haulaway
Street, Devonport. There was no letter inside it, nor was there
another scrap of writing anywhere about the dead man's pockets.

The police allowed Mr. Cazalette to inspect these things according to
his fancy. It was very clear to me by that time that the old
gentleman had some taste for detective work, and I watched him with
curiosity while he carefully examined Quick's money, his watch (of
which he took particular notice, even going so far as to jot down its
number and the name of its maker on his shirt cuff), and the rest of
his belongings. But nothing seemed to excite his interest very deeply
until he began to finger the tobacco-box; then, indeed, his eyes
suddenly coruscated, and he turned to me almost excitedly.

"Middlebrook!" he whispered, edging me away from the others. "Do you
look here, my lad! D'ye see the inside of the lid of this box? There's
been something--a design, a plan, something of that sort,
anyway--scratched into it with the point of a nail, or a knife. Look
at the lines--and see, there's marks and there's figures! Now I'd like
to know what all that signifies? What are you going to do with all
these things?" he asked, turning suddenly on the inspector. "Take them
away?"

"They'll all be carefully sealed up and locked up till the inquest,
sir," replied the inspector. "No doubt the dead man's relatives will
claim them."

Mr. Cazalette laid down the tobacco-box, left the place, and hurried
away in the direction of the house. Within a few minutes he came
hurrying back, carrying a camera. He went up to the inspector with an
almost wheedling air.

"Ye'll just indulge an old man's fancy?" he said, placatingly.
"There's some queer marking inside the lid of that bit of a box that
the poor man kept his tobacco in. I'd like to take a photograph of
them. Man! you don't know that an examination of them mightn't be
useful."

CHAPTER V

THE NEWS FROM DEVONPORT

The police-inspector, a somewhat silent, stolid sort of man, looked
down from his superior height on Mr. Cazalette's eager face with a
half-bored, half-tolerant expression; he had already seen a good deal
of the old gentleman's fussiness.

"What is it about the box?" he demanded.

"Certain marks on it--inside the lid--that I'd like to photograph,"
answered Mr. Cazalette. "They're small and faint, but if I get a good
negative of them I can enlarge it. And I say again, you don't know
what one mig