"'These are somebody's clothes, sure enough,' the detective said; 'and,
unless I'm very much mistaken, they're what I want. Has anybody got a
basket?'
"Yes. The boy who had fetched beer had a basket. Mr. Carter stuffed the
slimy bundle into this basket, and put his arm through the handle.
"'You're not going to look 'em over here, then?' said the local
constable, with an air of disappointment.
"'No, I'll take them straight to my hotel; I shall have plenty of light
there. You can come with me, if you like,' Mr. Carter answered.
"He paid the men, who had been at work all day, and paid them liberally,
I suppose, for they seemed very well satisfied. I had given him money
for any expenses such as these; for I knew that, in a case of this kind,
every insignificant step entailed the expenditure of money.
"We walked homewards as rapidly as the miserable state of the path, the
increasing darkness, and the falling rain would allow us to walk. The
constable walked with us. Mr. Carter whistled softly to himself as he
went along, with the basket on his arm. The slimy green stuff and muddy
water dripped from the bottom of the basket as he carried it.
"I was still at a loss to understand the reason of his high spirits; I
was still at a loss to comprehend why he attached so much importance to
the finding of the dead man's clothes.
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