“Where am I?” asked Wheeler in a tone of apparent bewilderment.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Wheeler?” said Jefferson. “Don’t you know where you are?”
“Oh, it is my friend, Mr. Pettigrew. Is it possible I am in your room?”
“It is very possible. Now tell me why you are here?”
“I am really ashamed to find myself in this strange position. It is not the first time that I have got into trouble from walking in my sleep.”
“Oh, you were walking in your sleep!”
“Yes, friend Petttigrew. It has been a habit of mine since I was a boy. But it seems very strange that I should have been led to your room. How could I get in? Wasn’t the door locked?”
“It is locked now?”
“It is strange! I don’t understand it,” said Wheeler, passing his hand over his forehead.
“Perhaps you understand why you have that bag of gold in your hand.”