Then came the most extraordinary clue of the ten-shilling piece. Happening to go to his desk one day—between schools—for toffee, Peters found in it a bit of paper lightly screwed up. He opened it and discovered in it no less than a gold ten-shilling piece; and on the paper, printed in lead pencil, were these words—
"FOR ANUTHER GINNEA-PIG."
He said nothing to anybody but me; but he seemed to think that I was a sort of a Dr. Watson in my way; besides, it simplified the workings of his mind to talk out loud; so he showed me the clue and then asked me what I thought. I had rather picked up his dodge of talking like Sherlock Holmes, so I said—
"The first question is, of course, to see what is the date on the half-quid."
I thought this pretty good; but Peters said that this was not the first question, and didn't matter in the least.
He said, "My dear Maydew, the money is nothing; the paper in which it is wrapped up is everything."
So I turned to the paper.
"What does it tell you?" he asked.
"It tells me that some utter kid did it," I said, "for he can't spell 'another' and he can't spell 'guinea-pig.'"
But Peters smiled and put the points of his fingers together like Sherlock Holmes.