His face is long
and disturbed.
Hallo! De Levis! Anything I can do for you?
DE LEVIS. [In a voice whose faint exoticism is broken by a vexed
excitement] I say, I'm awfully sorry, Winsor, but I thought I'd better
tell you at once. I've just had--er--rather a lot of money stolen.
WINSOR. What! [There is something of outrage in his tone and glance, as
who should say: "In my house?"] How do you mean stolen?
DE LEVIS. I put it under my pillow and went to have a bath; when I came
back it was gone.
WINSOR. Good Lord! How much?
DE LEVIS. Nearly a thousand-nine hundred and seventy, I think.
WINSOR. Phew! [Again the faint tone of outrage, that a man should have
so much money about him].
DE LEVIS. I sold my Rosemary filly to-day on the course to Bentman the
bookie, and he paid me in notes.
WINSOR. What? That weed Dancy gave you in the Spring?
DE LEVIS. Yes. But I tried her pretty high the other day; and she's in
the Cambridgeshire. I was only out of my room a quarter of an hour, and
I locked my door.
WINSOR. [Again outraged] You locked--
DE LEVIS. [Not seeing the fine shade] Yes, and had the key here. [He
taps his pocket] Look here! [He holds out a pocket-book] It's been
stuffed with my shaving papers.
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