"And hadn't you intended taking an ocean trip?"
"Good Lord, no! I had just bought a new French car and was going to drive it up to New Haven yesterday. It's standing out on Forty-fifth Street now, if somebody hasn't stolen it. Gee! I can see the news-boys cutting their monograms in those tires."
"How remarkable!"
"You see, it was a big night—football game, supper, and all that. I remember everything up to a certain point, then—curtain! I was 'out' for twelve hours, and SICK!—that's the funny part; I'm still sick." He shook his head as if at a loss what to make of this phenomenon. He noted how the woman's countenance lighted at even a passing interest, as he continued: "What I can't understand is this: It took all my money to pay for the supper, and yet I wake up with a first-class ticket to Panama and in possession of one of the best suites on the ship. It's a problem play."
"You say you were sick afterward?"
"WAS I?" Kirk turned his eyes upon the speaker, mournfully. "My head isn't right yet."
"You were drugged," said the woman.
"By Jove!" He straightened up in his chair. "Knockouts!"
"Exactly. Some one drugged you and bought a ticket—"
"Wait! I'm beginning to see. It was Locke. That's how I got his name. This is his ticket. Oh! There's going to be something doing when I get back."