“My name is Gloucester, sir,” was the answer. “Doubtless you recollect.”
“I do nothing of the kind,” said Carpentaria.
“I’m in charge of the—er——” Here Gloucester stood up on tiptoe in an endeavour to whisper directly into Carpentaria’s ear—“the strong-rooms.”
“Well,” asked Carpentaria, “what do you want?”
“Been robbed, sir.”
“Great Heavens, man!” Carpentaria exploded. “You come to interrupt my concert because the strong-rooms have been robbed!”
“Two thousand five hundred pounds, sir.”
“I don’t care if it’s two thousand times two thousand five hundred pounds. Go away! Go and worry Mr. Ilam.”
“That’s just it, sir. Mr. Ilam has been taken, too.”
By this time the multitudinous eyes of the audience were fixed on Carpentaria and his interlocutor, and everybody was sapiently saying to everybody else that something extraordinary must have occurred.