No fewer than three days after my correspondence was printed in the Greenly-Upon-Throckmorton Mercantile Gazette, the cigarettes still lay where they had been placed by the owner upon my occasional table. This had caused me no small amount of concern, as it necessitated the use of the lower-slung ‘coffee’ table for me to place my evening stout upon whilst imbibing in the evening.
Able to stand the strain any longer, I resolved that the matter must be settled. I gathered up my raincoat and umbrella and, despite the inclemency of the late-autumn weather, I set out to the Edgebaston Rd, knowing of nowhere else to begin my enquiries. My efforts however proved futile, as when I reached the road I found it devoid of any pterodactyl carcass. I enquired of a ‘bobby’ (Constable Tibbins, I presumed) and was informed that the carcass had been set upon by urchins lately driven out of London by a periodic sweep of the East End by the Queen’s Own Dragoons.
Somewhat despondent I returned home, only to be informed by Jenkins that while I had been out the Corsican had returned and collected his cigarettes.
I sank into my easy chair and, with a heart far lighter than it had been for several days, read the paper. As far as I was concerned, the matter was at an end.
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