“Heavens!” continued Jim, “five years in jail for that pig! And you never split on him. The dirty sewer-rat!
“I remember every point of that case now. Being a lawyer, I followed it closely. It struck me as one of purely damned, damning circumstantial evidence and it interested me at the time.”
“And––and you found this in––in my old boot?” asked Phil, pulling himself up.
“Ay!––and pretty nearly didn’t pay any heed to it. I unrolled it without thinking, then the queer mix-up of letters and numbers got me. I wasn’t so very busy––I never am when something crops up that attracts the curiosity part of me. I wondered what it could all mean. I sat down there and got it in two hours, beginning at the end and working backwards. I should have stopped, laddie, when I got a certain length, but it dealt with you and I didn’t think I would be right in stopping.
“Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘Gold Bug’ gave me the incentive for deciphering such like conundrums. I found it easy enough starting in with his method of deduction.
“You’re no’ angry wi’ me, Phil?” asked Jim, taking refuge in his favourite Doric.
“No––no––I’m not, Jim! I meant to––to tell you––someday. I––this has caught me unexpectedly and I can’t just think right. But I thought this had been burned long ago. Brenchfield thinks so too. The police had these boots all the time I was in jail, and they didn’t discover it.
“Let’s sit down, Jim! I’ve got to tell you all about it now. Supper can wait. We’ll both feel the better for it afterwards.”
They sat down together on the bed in that little back room.