"Hi there, bring back my shoes!"
"Dinged if he hasn't gone off with my cuff buttons, too!"
"Oh you robber!"
"Body snatcher!"
"Dink, the fusser!"
"Who'd have believed it!"
Meanwhile, Dink, returning to his room laden with the spoils of the house, proceeded to adorn himself on the principle of selection, discarding the Gutter Pup's trousers for the gala breeches of the Tennessee Shad, donning the braided cutaway of Lovely Mead's in preference to an affair of Slush Randolph's which was too tight in the chest.
The Tennessee Shad, the Gutter Pup and Dennis de Brian de Boru watched the proceedings, brownie fashion, across the transom, volunteering advice.
"Why, look at Dink wash!"
"It's a regular annual, isn't it?"