WINSOR. What? That weed Dancy gave you in the Spring?
DE LEVIS. Yes. But I tried her pretty high the other day; and she's in the Cambridgeshire. I was only out of my room a quarter of an hour, and I locked my door.
WINSOR. [Again outraged] You locked—
DE LEVIS. [Not seeing the fine shade] Yes, and had the key here. [He taps his pocket] Look here! [He holds out a pocket-book] It's been stuffed with my shaving papers.
WINSOR. [Between feeling that such things don't happen, and a sense that he will have to clear it up] This is damned awkward, De Levis.
DE LEVIS. [With steel in his voice] Yes. I should like it back.
WINSOR. Have you got the numbers of the notes?
DE LEVIS. No.
WINSOR. What were they?
DE LEVIS. One hundred, three fifties, and the rest tens and fives.