ud, having changed into his evening clothes,
came into Croyden's room and found him down on his knees looking under
the bureau, and swearing vigorously.

"Whee!" he said; "you _are_ a true pirate's heir! Old Parmenter,
himself, couldn't do it better. What's the matter--lose something?"

"No, I didn't lose anything!" said Croyden sarcastically. "I'm saying
my prayers."

"And incidentally searching for this, I suppose?" picking up a pearl
stud from under the bed.

Croyden took it without a word.

"And when you've sufficiently recovered your equanimity," Macloud went
on, "you might let me see the aforesaid Parmenter's letter. I want to
cogitate over it."

"It's in my wallet!" grinding in the stud--"my coat's on the chair,
yonder."

"I don't find it!" said Macloud, searching. "What pocket is it in?"

"The inside breast pocket!" exclaimed Croyden, ramming the last stud
home. "Where would you think it is--in the small change pocket?"

"Then suppose you find it for me."

"I'll do it with----" He stopped. "Do you mean it isn't there?" he
exclaimed.

"It isn't there!" said Macloud, holding up the coat.

Croyden's fingers flew to the breast pocket--empty! to the other
pockets--no wallet! He seized his trousers; then his waistcoat--no
wallet.

"My God! I've lost it!" he cried.

"Maybe you left it in Hampton?" said Macloud.

Croyden shook his head. "I had it when we left the Weston party--I felt
it in my pocket, as I bent to tie Miss Cavendish's shoe."

"Then, it oughtn't to be difficult to find--it's lost between the
Sampson Gate and the hotel. I'm going out to search, possibly in the
fading light it has not been noticed. You telephone the office--and
then join me, as quickly as you can get into your clothes."

He dashed out and down the stairs into the Exchange, passing midway,
with the barest nod, the Weston party, nor pausing to answer the
question Miss Cavendish flung after him.

Once on the rear piazza, however, he went slowly down the broad white
steps to the broad brick walk--the electric lights were on, and he
noted, with keen regret, how bright they made it--and thence to the
Sampson Gate. It was vain! He inquired of the guard stationed there,
and that, too, proving unavailing, left directions for its return, if
found.

"What a misfortune!" he muttered, as he renewed the search. "What a
misfortune! If any one reads that letter, the jig is up for us....
Here! boys," to a crowd of noisy urchins, si