"Yes," admitted the inspector; "I did. But I didn't expect you to. I thought you'd be happier in town."
"Happy! God!" said Lamont, and was silent, evidently living it over again.
"Well," prompted the inspector, "you missed your revolver?"
"Yes; I missed it. And though I didn't use it — it used to be kept locked in a drawer at Mrs. Everett's — I knew exactly where I had put it when I was packing. Whereabouts in the trunk, I mean. And as it was only that morning I had packed, I was just taking things out in the reverse order from the way I'd put them in, and so I missed it at once. And then I grew frightened somehow — though even yet I can't tell you why. I began to remember how quiet Bert had been lately. He was always quiet, but lately he had been more so. Then I thought he might just have wanted a gun going to a strange country. But then I thought he might have asked for it. He knew I'd have given it to him if he asked for it. Anyway, I was sort of frightened, though I couldn't tell you just why, and I went straight back to the queue and found him. He had a good place, about a third of the way down, so I think he had had a boy to keep his place for him. He must have meant all the time to go back on his last night. He was sentimental, Bert. I asked him if he had taken my revolver, and he admitted it. I don't know why I grew so scared then all of a sudden. Looking back, it doesn't seem to be anything to be scared about — your pal having taken your revolver. But I was, and I lost my head and said, 'Well, I want it back right now. And he said, 'Why? And I said, 'Because it's my property and I want it. He said, 'You're a mean skunk, Jerry. Can't I borrow anything of yours even when I'm going half round the world and you're going to stay in little safe old London? But I stuck to having it back. Then he said, 'Well, you'll have a sweet time unpacking my things for it, but I'll give you the key and the ticket. It was only then that it occurred to me that I had taken it for granted that he had the revolver on him. I began to feel small and to feel I'd made a fool of myself. I always did things first and thought afterwards, and Bert always thought for ages about a thing, and then would do exactly as he had intended to. We were opposites in lots of ways. So I told him to keep his ticket and the revolver too, and went away."
Now there had been no cloakroom ticket found in Sorrell's possession.
"Did you see the ticket?"
"No; he only offered to give it to me.
"Next morning I was late because I wasn't used to doing for myself, and I had to make my own breakfast and tidy up, but I didn't hurry because I had no job. I was hoping to get a clerk's place when the 'flat' started. It was nearly twelve when I went out, and I wasn't thinking of anything but Bert. I was so fed up with the way we'd parted and the fool I'd made of myself that I went to a post office and sent a wire to Bert addressed to the Queen of Arabia, saying, 'Sorry. - JERRY. "
"What post office did you send the telegram from?"
"The one on Brixton High Street."