Hobhouse appeared. The man went
on to explain that he and a friend had been visiting the scene of the
tragedy early that morning and had discovered the pocket book among the
rocks close to where the body had been found. The local police had been
in the island and visited the spot yesterday afternoon, he said, and he
had meant to give his find to them, but now he heard that they had left
again. They were coming back, and London police with them, people said,
but meanwhile he thought the pocket book should be deposited either with
the doctor or the laird (being Justices of the Peace), and he had called
at the doctor's first. Now, the doctor being out, he meant to take it to
Mr. Rendall's.
Hardly necessary to say, Mr. Hobhouse instantly took upon himself the
responsibility of seeing that the doctor got the pocket book the moment
he returned, and the farmer, glad enough to save himself a longer walk,
handed it over. And then Mr. Hobhouse put a few very natural questions.
"Was the pocket book wet when it was found?"
"No wetter than she is now," said the man.
"Then it must have fallen out of poor Bolton's pocket before his body was
thrown into the sea! Dreadful! Dreadful!" exclaimed the distressed
gentleman. "And was it quite conspicuous--easily seen on the rocks?"
"We saw it a' right," said the man.
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