“Isn’t it? Where is it, then?” demanded Joshua, beginning to be alarmed.
“I must have taken it with me to-night, after all,” said Sam. “I understand now,” he added, suddenly. “I must have had my pocket picked in the car.”
“Had your pocket picked?” repeated Joshua, as ruefully as if it had been his own.
“Yes; didn’t you notice that black-whiskered man that sat next me?”
“No.”
“I am sure it was he. I thought he looked suspicious as I entered the car. If I hadn’t been talking with you, he couldn’t have robbed me without my knowing it.”
“Was there much in the pocketbook?” inquired Joshua.
“Not much,” said Sam, indifferently. “Between twenty-seven and twenty-eight dollars, I believe--a mere trifle.”
“I call that a good deal.”
“It’s more than I like to lose, to be sure.”