"It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten. . . There are small windows on each side, which were covered by curtains, and never opened. One of these windows turned towards the high-road. . ."
"He had called it a cabin, and a cabin it was, sure enough, for you would have thought that you were in a ship. There was a bunk at one end, a sea-chest, maps and charts, a picture of the 'Sea Unicorn', a line of log-books on a shelf, all exactly as one would expect to find it in a captain's room. And there in the middle of it was the man himself, his face twisted like a lost soul in torment, and his great brindled beard stuck upwards in his agony. Right through his broad chest a steel harpoon had been driven, and it had sund deep into the wood of the wall behind him. He was pinned like a beetle on a card."
". . . a bottle of rum and two dirty glasses stood upon the table."
". . . there was a tantalus containing brandy and whisky on the sea-chest."
"There was this tobacco pouch upon the table."
"I told you that I picked the book off the floor. . . It lay near the door."