To me it had looked like any ordinary sailor's cap, but he examined it, fingered it, and pulled it about, muttering all the time, so that I imagined it must be his own, though at a loss to know why he made so much of recovering it.

At last he climbed up again, holding it in his hands, and still muttering to himself-- "His cap, sure enough; nothing in it, though.

But he was much too clever a devil.

However, he's gone right enough; I knew he must, and this proves it, curse him! Well, I'll wear it.

He's not left behind as much as he thought, but mad enough he'd be to think I was his heir.