The Adventure of the Bald Archaeologist I spent the night on a shelf of the hillside, in the lee of a boulder where the heather grew long and soft.

It was a cold business, for I had neither coat nor waistcoat.

These were in Mr Turnbull's keeping, as was Scudder's little book, my watch and--worst of all--my pipe and tobacco pouch.

Only my money accompanied me in my belt, and about half a pound of ginger biscuits in my trousers pocket.
I supped off half those biscuits, and by worming myself deep into the heather got some kind of warmth.

My spirits had risen, and I was beginning to enjoy this crazy game of hide-and-seek.