that he's considered to have come this way on Saturday night. So—do either of you know that?"
He drew his right hand from behind him, and in the glare of the firelight showed them, lying across its palm, a briar tobacco-pipe, silver-mounted.
"I found that, last night, gathering dry sticks," he said. "It's letters engraved on the silver band—'J. H. from B. F.' 'J. H.' now?—does that mean John Horbury?—you see, I know his Christian name."
Betty uttered a sharp exclamation and took the pipe in her hand. She turned to Neale with a look of sudden fear.
"It's the pipe I gave my uncle last Christmas!" she said. "Of course I know it! Where did you find it?" she went on, turning on Creasy. "Do tell us—do show us!"
"Foot of the crag there, miss—right beneath the old tower," answered Creasy. "And it's just as I found it. I'll give it to you, sir, to take to Superintendent Polke in Scarnham—he knows me. But just let me point something out. I ain't a detective, but in my eight-and-forty years I've had to keep my wits sharpened and my eyes open. Point out to Polke, and notice yourself—that whenever that pipe was dropped it was being smoked! The tobacco's caked at the surface—just as it would be if the pipe had been laid down at the very time the tobacco was burning well—if you're a smoker you'll know what I mean. That's one thing. The other is—just observe that the silver band is quite bright and fresh, and that there are no stains on the briar-wood.
