dejection.
"no, thank you, sir. i breakfasted before i came round.
i spent the night in town, for i came up yesterday to report."
"and what had you to report?"
"failure, sir; absolute failure."
"you have made no progress?"
"none."
"dear me! i must have a look at the matter."
"i wish to heavens that you would, mr. holmes. it's my
first big chance, and i am at my wits' end. 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. he was a most daring and successful
seal and whale fisher. in 1883 he commanded the steam
sealer _sea unicorn_, of dundee. he had then had several
successful voyages in succession, and in the following
year, 1884, he retired. after that he travelled for some
years, and finally he bought a small place called woodman's
lee, near forest row, in sussex. there he has lived for
six years, and there he died just a week ago to-day.
"there were some most singular points about the man.
in ordinary life he was a strict puritan -- a silent, gloomy
fellow. his household consisted of his wife, his daughter,
aged twenty, and two female servants. these last were
continually changing, for it was never a very cheery
situation, and sometimes it became past all bearing.
the man was an intermittent drunkard, and when he had the fit
on him he was a perfect fiend. he has been known to drive
his wife and his daughter out of doors in the middle of the
night, and flog them through the park until the whole
village outside the gates was aroused by their screams.
"he was summoned once for a savage assault upon the old vicar,
who had called upon him to remonstrate with him upon
his conduct. in short, mr. holmes, you would go far before
you found a more dangerous man than peter carey, and i have
heard that he bore the same character when he commanded his
ship. he was known in the trade as black peter, and the
name was given him, not only on account of his swarthy
features and the colour of his huge beard, but for the
humours which were the terror of all around him. i need
not say that he was loathed and avoided by every one of his
neighbours, and that i have not heard one single word of
sorrow about his terrible end.
"you must have read in the account of the inquest about the
man's cabin, mr. holmes; but perhaps your friend here has
not heard of it. he had built himself a wooden outhouse --
he always called it 'the cabin' -- a few hundred yards
from his house, and it was here that he slept every night.
it was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten.
he kept the key in his pocket, made his own bed, cleaned it
himself, and allowed no other foot to cross the threshold.
there are small windows on each side, which were covered by
curtains and never opened. one of these windows was turned
towards the high road, and when the light burned in it at
night the folk used to point it out to each other and
wonder what black peter was doing in there. that's the
window, mr. holmes, which gave us one of the few bits of
positive evidence that came out at the inquest.
"you remember that a stonemason, named slater, walking from
forest row about one o'clock in the morning -- two days
before the murder -- stopped as he passed the grounds and
looked at the square of light still shining among the
trees. he swears that the shadow of a man's head turned
sideways was clearly visible on the blind, and that this
shadow was certainly not that of peter carey, whom he knew
well. it was that of a bearded man, but the beard was
short and bristled forwards in a way very different from
that of the captain. so he says, but he had been two hours
in the public-house, and it is some distance from the road
to the window. besides, this refers to the monday, and the
crime was done upon the wednesday
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