“Is Burke—”
“God knows what has become of Burke, Petrie! We were both caught napping in the establishment of the amiable Shen-Yan, where, amid a very mixed company of poker players, we were losing our money like gentlemen.”
“But Weymouth—”
“Burke and I had both been neatly sand-bagged, my dear Petrie, and removed elsewhere, some hours before Weymouth raided the gaming-house. Oh! I don’t know how they smuggled us away with the police watching the place; but my presence here is sufficient evidence of the fact. Are you armed?”
“No; my pistol was in my raincoat, which is missing.”
In the dim light from the broken window, I could see Smith tugging reflectively at the lobe of his left ear.
“I am without arms, too,” he mused. “We might escape from the window—”
“It’s a long drop!”
“Ah! I imagined so. If only I had a pistol, or a revolver—”
“What should you do?”