They had reached the top floor, and the car had stopped.
“I’ll tell you later. You can get me a pair of pants somewhere, can’t you?”
There was pleading in his voice. Almost tears. But the tears were of rage.
“I’ll lose my job if I leave this car,” observed the elevator man. He had recovered from his fright, and besides he had recognised the boy’s service hat.
“Soldier, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Look here, old man, I’m in a devil of a mess. Lot of our fellows, met them outside—it’s a joke. I’ll joke them!” he added vindictively.
“Some fellows got a queer idea of humour,” observed the elevator man. “I might send out for you. Got any money?”
The full depth of his helplessness struck Sergeant Gray then and turned him cold. His money, thirty-nine dollars and sixteen cents, was in the slicker.
“They took my money too.”
The elevator man’s face grew not less interested but more suspicious.