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Updated: May 4, 2025
Pen took the knife, and, eager to get the matter over, he stepped to where the bigger goat-herd stood watching them, and opened and shut the big clasp-knife, picked up a piece of wood, and showed how keen the blade was, the man watching him curiously the while; and then Pen closed it and placed it in the man's hand.
It was an ungainly clasp-knife, as rusty as if it had spent a winter beneath a hedge. "I seem to remember that knife," he said. "Yes," I answered, "you should remember it. Well, after three months Adam tired of his wife." I stopped again. This was a story in which only the pauses were eloquent. "Perhaps I have no right to say he tired of her.
There, on a stone, sat Henry Irving, in his shirtsleeves, his long hair matted over his eyes, his thin hands and white face all smeared with blood, and dangling an open clasp-knife. He was muttering to himself, in a savage tone: "I've done it, I've done it! I said I would, I said I would!" Tom Smale, in an agony of fear, rushed up to Irving.
In the Collector's pockets they found a twist of tobacco, a red bandanna handkerchief of violent color, a purse meagrely filled with copper coins and silver pieces, a silver watch still ticking with a loud and insistent iteration, a piece of tarred string, and a clasp-knife.
They came upon the smuggler; a scuffle ensued, and one of Captain Hartley's men was stabbed by his side with a clasp-knife, and fell dead at his feet; and he wrenched the knife from the hand of the murderer, who with his companions, effected his escape without being discovered. But day had not yet broken when two constables knocked at the door of Harry Teasdale, and demanded admission.
By good luck there was no weapons of any kind in the room, not even a table knife, for I'd had to pawn a'most everything to pay my rent, and the clasp-knife I'd eat my breakfast with was in my pocket. But we was both handy with our fists. We kep' at it for about half an hour. Smashed all the furniture, an' would have smashed the winders too, but there was only one, an' it was a skylight.
He discovered nothing but a few drops of clotted blood on the ends of his trousers which were very much frayed. He took a big clasp-knife and cut off the frayed edges. Suddenly he remembered that the purse and the things he had abstracted from the old woman's chest, were still in his pockets!
He said, "I will make some myself." He said this while eating a lobster on top of the coach. He was an extraordinary skilful young man in the use of a common clasp-knife. With that simple weapon he could make, from soft wood, horses, dogs, cats, etc. He carved excellent soldiers also. I remember his masterpiece. It was "Napoleon crossing the Alps."
This was the Captain's purse. He carried it always in his right trouser-pocket, and it contained his gold. As for such trifling metal as silver, he carried that loose, mixed with coppers, bits of tobacco, broken pipes, and a clasp-knife, in the other pocket. He was very fond of his purse.
"Nice cottage you've got here," said the persistent Flower. "I wish you 'ad to live in it," said the old man. He took a proffered cigar, and after eyeing it for some time, like a young carver with a new joint, took out a huge clasp-knife and slowly sawed the end off. "Can I sleep here for the night?" asked Flower, at length. "No, you can't," said the old man, drawing at his cigar.
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