The Gladiators
"You never saw such a mess. He'd turned out our pockets; piled all our watches in a heap in the middle of the floor; strewed the money in a tasty circle round 'em; stuck the scarf pins in a chunk of soap; and chucked the match-boxes and cigarette-cases into Gummery's bag. He'd left his own clothes as a legacy, but he'd not gone without. He'd borrowed a vest from one chap, pants from another, and socks from me. He'd taken a new tweed suit from someone else, and the two teams spent a couple of happy hours sorting their jewelry with sulphurous language and shivering with cold. The worst of it is that those cursed Gladiators can't find all their precious heirlooms, and I shall have to make it good. In common decency I must do that. But I don't believe the Linnet's a kleptomaniac, anyhow."
"What had become of the Linnet?" I asked again.
Georgie looked uneasy.
"The window at the back was open," he said. "I hope to goodness he isn't any
221
