"Never mind who I am. I've had my eyes on you this ever so long. Ain't you been a-going it neither. I thought that you was dead. Was it----?"
He gave a suggestive gesture with his hand, as though he emptied a glass into his mouth. Bertie struggled to his feet.
"I--I don't feel quite well."
"You don't look it neither. Whatever have you been doing of?"
Bertie tried to think. He would like to have left his new acquaintance. The Original Badger and his friends had been quite enough for him, but his legs refused their office, and he was perforce compelled to content himself with standing still. He did not feel quite such a hero as he had done before.
"Have you lost anything?"
The chance question brought Bertie back to recollection. He put his hand into his trousers pockets--they were empty. Bewildered, he felt in the pockets of his waistcoat and of his jacket--they were empty, too! Some one had relieved him of everything he possessed, down to his clasp knife and pocket handkerchief. Willie Seymour's one and fivepence, and Mr. Bankes' five pounds, both alike were gone!
"I've been robbed," he said.
"I shouldn't be surprised but what you had. What do you think is going to happen to you if you lies for ever so many hours in the middle of the fair field as if you was dead? How much have you lost?"
"Five pounds."