It had just occurred to Mr
Snell, the landlord- he being, as he observed, a man accustomed to put
two and two together- to connect with the tinder-box which, as
deputy-constable, he himself had had the honourable distinction of
finding, certain recollections of a pedlar who had called to drink
at the house about a month before, and had actually stated that he
carried a tinder-box about with him to light his pipe. Here, surely,
was a clue to be followed out. And as memory, when duly impregnated
with ascertained facts, is sometimes surprisingly fertile, Mr Snell
gradually recovered a vivid impression of the effect produced on him
by the pedlar's countenance and conversation. He had a 'look with
his eye' which fell unpleasantly on Mr Snell's sensitive organism.
To be sure, he didn't say anything particular- no, except that about
the tinder-box- but it isn't what a man says, it's the way he says it.
Moreover, he had a swarthy foreignness of complexion which boded
little honesty.
'Did he wear ear-rings?' Mr Crackenthorp wished to know, having
some acquaintance with foreign customs.
'Well- stay- let me see,' said Mr Snell, like a docile
clairvoyante, who would really not make a mistake if she could help
it. After stretching the corners of his mouth and contracting his
eyes, as if he were trying to see the ear-rings, he appeared to give
up the effort, and said, 'Well, he'd got ear-rings in his box to sell,
so it's nat'ral to suppose he might wear 'em.
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