Douglas started round, cramped with his long lingering against the stone wall. A girl was standing by his side. There were roses in her hat and a suspicion of powder upon her cheeks.
"Were you speaking to me?" he asked hesitatingly.
She laughed shortly.
"No one else within earshot that I know of," she answered. "I saw you throw that parcel over."
"I was just wishing," he remarked, "that I could get it back."
"Well, you are a mug to chuck it over and then want it back. I guess it's lost now, anyway, unless the river police find it—and that ain't likely, is it?"
"I should think not," he answered gravely. "Good evening." He would have moved away, but she stopped him. "Come, that's not good enough," she said, in a harder tone. "You ain't going to bluff me. What was in that parcel, eh?"
He looked at her in surprise.
"I don't quite see how it concerns you, anyway," he said, "but I don't know that I mind telling you that it contained a suit of clothes."
"Your own?"