There I
breakfasted off a whisky-and-soda and some biscuits from the cupboard.
By this time it was getting on for six o'clock. I put a pipe in
My Pocket and filled my pouch from the tobacco jar on the table by
the fireplace.
As I poked into the tobacco my fingers touched something hard,
and I drew out Scudder's little black pocket-book ...
That seemed to me a good omen. I lifted the cloth from the body
and was amazed at the peace and dignity of the dead face. 'Goodbye,
old chap,' I said; 'I am going to do my best for you. Wish me
well, wherever you are.'
Then I hung about in the hall waiting for the milkman. That was
the worst part of the business, for I was fairly choking to get out of
doors. Six-thirty passed, then six-forty, but still he did not come.
The fool had chosen this day of all days to be late.
At one minute after the quarter to seven I heard the rattle of the
cans outside. I opened the front door, and there was my man,
singling out my cans from a bunch he carried and whistling through
his teeth. He jumped a bit at the sight of me.
'Come in here a moment,' I said. 'I want a word with you.' And
I led him into the dining-room.
'I reckon you're a bit of a sportsman,' I said, 'and I want you to
do me a service. Lend me your cap and overall for ten minutes, and
here's a sovereign for you.'
His eyes opened at the sight of the gold, and he grinned broadly.
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