“Great Jimmy!” said Captain Cosdon in awe.
“Well, that’s very thorough,” said Reggie. “And the next thing, please.”
Colonel Beach said it was a damned outrage. He also supposed that the fellows had stripped the whole place. And he bounced out.
Reggie went to his own room. He had nothing which could be stolen but his brushes, and they were not gone. He looked out of the window. In the cold March moonlight he saw two men moving hither and thither, and recognized one for his chauffeur and factotum Sam, and shouted.
“Nothing doing, sir,” Sam called back. “Clean getaway.”
Reggie went downstairs to the smoking-room. He was stretched in a chair consuming soda-water and a large cigar when there broke upon him in a wave of chattering Tom Beach and Alice and Captain Cosdon.
“Oh, Mr. Fortune, is this a perfect crime?” Alice laughed.
Reggie shook his head. “I’m afraid it had an accident in its youth. The crime that took the wrong turning.”
“How do you mean, Fortune?” Tom Beach frowned. “It’s deuced awkward.”
“Awkward is the word,” Reggie agreed. “What’s gone, Colonel?”