"Pooh, nonsense! man."
Another useless turn round the room. "Well, I'm sure, sir, I can't see them."
"How very odd!" exclaimed our gentleman; "perhaps I'm sitting on them." He rose, but there were no buckskins under him. "How excessively strange! You didn't take them away with you when you took the boots, did you?"
"No, sir; I never comed into the room. You put your boots outside."
"So I did, now I recollect; but still the buckskins must be found." Another ineffectual search of five minutes, during which our gentleman gradually showed that the serenity of his temper was ruffling, till at last he became in a furious passion.
"By heavens! this is too bad: in a respectable house, too. Boots, go up to your master, and tell him I must see him immediately—say immediately, and without delay—Mr. William Baring—recollect, instantly!"
In a few minutes the landlord of the hotel made his appearance, half dressed, and not very well pleased at being compelled to turn out at such an unseasonable hour; but the name of Baring had been mentioned, and was not to be trifled with.
"You wish to speak to me, sir?"
"Yes, sir, I do wish to speak to you. I came here last night, having been obliged to give up my place in the seven o'clock mail, in consequence of pressing and important business which detained me. I booked myself by the fast coach, supped and slept here, desiring that I might be called in good time, as my immediate return to London is important. On my being called and getting up, I found that somebody had stole my buck-skins—that's all—nothing more. My buckskins—buckskins, sir, have disappeared!"
"I'm very sorry, sir—very sorry; can't imagine how. Some mistake, I presume," stammered the landlord.