Graham saw at once, from the size of the pants, that they must belong to the elder passenger. This suited him, however, as he knew from Vincent's information that Mr. Waterbury had six hundred dollars, and Tom could not be supposed to have anything like this sum. He felt eagerly in the pockets, and to his great joy his hand came in contact with a pocketbook. He drew it out without ceremony. It was a comfortable-looking wallet, fairly bulging with bills.
"He's got all his money inside," thought Graham, delighted. "What a fool he must be to leave it so exposed—with his door open, too!"
At this moment Graham heard a stir in the lower berth. There was no time to wait. He glided out of the room, and reentered his own stateroom. Immediately after his departure Mr. Waterbury, who had awakened in time to catch sight of his receding figure, rose in his berth, and drew toward him the garment which Graham had rifled. He felt in the pocket, and discovered that the wallet had been taken.
Instead of making a fuss, he smiled quietly, and said: "Just as I expected."
"I wonder if they have robbed Tom, too," he said to himself.
He rose, closed the door, and then shook Tom with sufficient energy to awaken him.
"Who's there?" asked Tom, in some bewilderment, as he opened his eyes.
"It's I—Mr. Waterbury."
"Is it morning? Have we arrived?"
"No, it is about midnight."