"My memory as to what happened during the latter part of the evening is anything but clear," said Freddy. "I seem to have a hazy recollection of pulling out my watch and looking at it when the clock in your room chimed something or other."
"That would be half-past two," interrupted Lennox.
"But I can't be quite sure on the point. How about your purse?--portemonnaie, or whatever it was?"
"As to that, I only know that I missed it first when I came to undress. I might have been relieved of it hours before, or only a few minutes."
"Don't you remember two or three rough-looking fellows hustling past us," asked Philip, "as we stood talking for a minute or two at the street corner just before Bootle got into the cab?"
Lennox shook his head. "I can't say that I recollect the circumstance you speak of," he answered.
"But I recollect the affair quite well," said Philip, positively. "One of the men nearly hustled me into the gutter. Nasty low-looking fellows they were. I think it most likely that they were the pickpockets."
The Captain shrugged his shoulders, remarking that all he knew was that his money was gone; he crossed the room, and began to stare out of the window. Freddy Bootle was looking dreadfully uncomfortable.
"I am sorry that I can't join you fellows at dinner to-day," said Philip. "From a letter I received this morning I find I must get back home at once."
"Oh, nonsense!" both of them interrupted. "That won't do, Cleeve."