When I had to sit alone with that corpse and wait on Fortune I was no better than a crushed worm, but if my neck's safety was to hang on my own wits I was prepared to be cheerful about it.
My next thought was whether Scudder had any papers about him to give me a better clue to the business.

I drew back the table-cloth and searched his pockets, for I had no longer any shrinking from the body.
The face was wonderfully calm for a man who had been struck down in a moment.

There was nothing in the breast-pocket, and only a few loose coins and a cigar-holder in the waistcoat.

The trousers held a little penknife and some silver, and the side pocket of his jacket contained an old crocodile-skin cigar-case.

There was no sign of the little black book in which I had seen him making notes.