"Well," said Charles, "what do you think of it?"
"When you say you—er—PICKED IT UP in Portugal," I began carefully, "I suppose you don't mean—" I stopped and tried to bite the end off.
"Have a knife," said Charles.
I had another bite, and then I decided to be frank.
"WHY did you pick it up?" I asked.
"The fact was," said Charles, "I found myself one day in Lisbon without my pipe, and so I bought that thing; I never smoke them in the ordinary way."
"Did you smoke this?" I asked. It was obvious that SOMETHING had happened to it.
"No, you see, I found some cigarettes at the last moment, and so, knowing that you liked cigars, I thought I'd bring it home for you."
"It's very nice of you, Charles. Of course I can see that it has travelled. Well, we must do what we can with it."
I took the knife and started chipping away at the mahogany end. The other end—the brown-paper end, which had come ungummed—I intended to reserve for the match. When everything was ready I applied a light, leant back in my chair, and pulled.