“Well, you needn’t look to me for it!” flung back Savage, whose temper had been ruffled by the tone assumed by his roommate. “I hope you don’t think I took your old watch? I have one of my own, and—Hey! where’s my knife?”
Savage was very neat and trim in his habits, and he always cleaned his finger-nails mornings when he reached a certain point in his dressing. It was shortly after washing his face and hands, as that was the best time to do so. Just now he had thrust his hand into his pocket for his knife, only to discover that it was gone.
Gorman paid no attention to Joe, but continued to look around for his watch, a scowl on his face.
Savage felt hastily through his pockets, then began to look around himself.
“Seen my knife?” he demanded.
“No!” snapped Abe; “but I’d like to see my watch. It’s mighty strange where that watch has disappeared to.”
Joe stood still, his hands in his pockets, thinking.
“I had that knife last night,” he muttered. “I sharpened a pencil with it. I was sitting right there by the table. I put it back into my pocket. Funny where it’s gone.”
Then the two boys found themselves staring suspiciously at each other.
“My watch is valuable,” said Gorman.