"Your boat!" said Linton. "You don't mean to say that was yours! What on earth were you doing at the place?"
"I don't think that's any business of yours, is it, Linton?"
"How did you get back?"
"I don't think that's any business of yours, either. I daresay you're disappointed, but I did manage to get back. In time for lock-up, too."
"But I don't understand. Do you mean to say that that was your boat we took?"
"Sunk," corrected Sheen.
"Don't be a fool, Sheen. What the dickens should we want to sink your boat for? What happened was this. Albert—you remember Albert?—followed us up to the inn, and smashed our boat while we were having tea. When we got out and found it sunk, we bagged the only other one we could see. We hadn't a notion it was yours. We thought it belonged to some fisherman chap."
"Then you didn't sink my boat?"
"Of course we didn't. What do you take us for?"
"Sorry," said Sheen. "I thought it was a queer thing for you to have done. I'm glad it wasn't you. Good night."