All this brings me to the story. Of course, I could have told you the
bare facts without giving you an idea of the man and his surroundings,
but that wouldn't be fair to you, for you would have missed knowing the
Doctor, and I the opportunity of introducing him to you.
We were sitting in the old-fashioned office, then, one snowy night in
January, the Doctor leaning back in his chair, his meerschaum pipe in
his mouth--the one with the gold cap that a long-ago patient gave
him--when he straightened his back and tugged at his fob, bringing to
the surface a small gold watch--one I had not seen before.
"Where's the silver one?" I asked, referring to an old silver-backed
watch I had seen him wear.
The Doctor looked up and smiled.
"That's in the drawer. I don't wear it any more--not since I got this
one back."
"What happened? Was it broken?"
"No, stolen."
"When?"
"Oh, some time ago. Help yourself to a cigar and I'll tell you about it.
"One night last summer I came in late, took off my coat and vest, hung
them on a chair by the window and went to bed, leaving the sashes ajar,
for it was terribly hot and I wanted a draught of air through from
my bedroom.
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