“Of course, I’ll go,” replied George Hay to someone’s inquiry.
“I’m too seedy,” continued Bobby, who had not spared the punch.
“I, too,” added Oliver.
“I should like to, but I daren’t,” chimed in Polly. And so a detachment was added to the contingent that were piloted by the irrepressible Coney.
Bobby during the past night had, alas! not followed the paths of sobriety, and so it came to pass that the blind agreed to lead the blind, and Polly Amherst and Harry Turner (a genial comedian) agreed to escort him to the Hummums.
Passing Hart’s Coffee House we, of course, “looked in,” and, sure enough, there was Hastings and a dozen boon companions; but the night air had been too much for many of us; we saw a dozen Marquises and only one boon companion, so taking the wisest resolve we had taken that night, we bade each other farewell on the steps of the Hummums, and proceeded to our virtuous couches.
Arising late on the following afternoon, a circumstance occurred that drove everything else out of my head, and to the elucidation of this inexplicable coincidence are to be attributed the monotonous details I have just described.
It was towards three on the following afternoon, when, having completed a refreshing toilette, my left arm was entering my sleeve that I became aware of a foreign substance that bulged to an abnormal extent the inner pocket of my coat; proceeding to examine the cause with that self-possession for which I was so justly conspicuous, my equanimity was considerably tried by coming into contact with a watch; extracting it carefully, I discovered that it was attached to a massive chain adorned with numerous seals and lockets. Surprised, I continued my investigations, my surprise turning to anxiety as a second watch (a repeater) made its appearance. By this time thoroughly alarmed, I dived again, and out came three or four rings and a purse stuffed full of sovereigns. Fairly staggered, my sang-froid left me, and reeling towards the bed, I endeavoured to solve the mystery.
Had I in my cups robbed a jeweller’s? Had I picked somebody’s pocket? Had I had a row, and after the fray put on my opponent’s coat? But every argument failed to elucidate the mystery, and my thoughts wandered to such an extent that in it all I saw a distinct judgment on my back-sliding.
To make matters worse, I knew not where Amherst or Harry Turner resided, and so resolved to have breakfast and await developments.