"Fane—Fane's the solution, I think," jerked out the amateur detective, rubbing his chin hard. "We didn't tell him, I remember, that we'd hidden the Star, and perhaps he's—but here he is."
"Yes, here I am," said Fane, closing the door. "You fellows look excited—what's up?"
"Look here—did you move a coat of Billy's? It was hanging up in this corner."
"Billy's coat!" exclaimed Fane, turning a trifle pale. "What's the matter with Billy's coat?"
"Matter enough, comrade," said Patch grimly. "We didn't tell you—we forgot, as a matter of fact—we didn't tell you that we'd sewn the Black Star up in one of the seams of that coat, to hide it. And now the coat's gone."
"My only aunt!" gasped Fane, falling into a chair. "Is that right? Was the Star in that coat?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Why?" echoed Fane. "I sold that coat for five bob to an Indian hawker yesterday afternoon! And I expect he's miles off by this time!"