"You took my suitcase away from Mr. Bostwick, you'll remember," she said, "and left it where we got the horses."
"It will be here to-day," he answered. "I arranged for that with Dave."
"Oh. But of course you cannot tell when Mr. Bostwick may appear."
"His movements couldn't be arranged so conveniently, otherwise he wouldn't appear at all."
She glanced at him, startled.
"Not come at all? But I need him! Besides, he's my—— I expect him to go and find my brother. And the trunk checks are all in his pocket—wait!—no they're not, they're in my suitcase after all."
"You're in luck," he assured her blandly, "for Searle has doubtless lost all his pockets."
"Lost his pockets?" she echoed. "Perhaps you mean the convicts took them—took his clothing—everything he had."
"Everything except his pleasant manner," Van agreed. "They have plenty of that of their own."
She was lost for a moment in reflection.