The thin young man seemed relieved. It was evidently not his want of knowledge which was a disgrace to the country, but the disappearance of the lady's jewels. Bertie pricked up his ears; the captain gave no sign of having heard.
The young man ventured on a question.
"How's that? Have they been stolen?"
"How's that, sir! Stolen, sir! I should think they have been stolen!"
The words were spoken with almost volcanic force. All the carriage began to take an interest in what was being said--excepting always "Uncle Tom."
The old gentleman grasped his paper with his right hand, and emphasized his words with the first finger of his left.
"At half-past two this afternoon the Countess of Ferndale, who has been in attendance at Windsor Castle, started from Windsor to London. Windsor, sir, is at a distance of twenty-two miles from town--twenty-two miles; no more. The traffic between that place and London, sir, is extremely large; and yet, travelling on that short strip of railway, in one of Her Majesty's own state coaches----"
"I don't think it was in one of the Queen's own coaches she was travelling."
"No; it wasn't."
The first interruption came from the severe-looking gentleman who had lent the Captain the Globe; the second from a placid-looking gentleman with black whiskers, who sat beside him in front of Bertie.