“When and how did you lose your hammer?” asked the commander.
“I was using it last Thursday. When evening mess gear was piped, I had not quite finished the job I was doing, and I left it lying with my work while I ate my supper. When I went back to finish the job, the hammer was missing.”
“Where were you at work?”
“Close to the stairway where the men come down from deck, sir. I pushed my work to one side, where it would not be in the way, and stepped to the table. I wasn’t away from it half an hour.”
“The hammer was where any one could get it easily, was it?”
“Yes, sir. It was just beside the stairway. Any one going up or down the stairs could have seen it, and it was necessary to take only a step to one side of the stairway to reach it. Any one going up the steps from supper could have picked it up easily without being noticed.”
“What were you doing with the hammer?”
“I was making a case for the executive officer, sir. He wanted a case with pigeonholes to hold some of his account books.”
“Then you were using small nails to fasten in the partitions with, I take it.”
“Yes, sir, some long, thin, finishing nails. They were like these, sir.” And the carpenter thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth an assortment of nails, and fished out a finishing nail that was the duplicate of those Henry had so recently found.