ging near the
door.

"My hat," said Jones.

The thing flew, and returned with a glossy silk hat, a tortoiseshell
handled cane, and a pair of new suede gloves of a delicate dove colour.
Then it opened the door, and Jones, clapping the hat on his head, walked
out.

The hat fitted, by a mercy.

CHAPTER V

THE POINT OF THE JOKE

Out in the open air and sunshine he took a deep satisfying breath. He
felt as though he had escaped from a cage full of monkeys. Monkeys in
the form of men, creatures who would servilely obey him as Rochester,
but who, scenting the truth, would rend him in pieces.

Well, he was clear of them. Once back in the Savoy he would get into his
own things, and once in his own things he would strike. If he could not
get a lawyer to take his case up against Rochester, he would go to the
police. Yes, he would. Rochester had doped him, taken his letters, taken
his watch.

Jones was not the man to bring false charges. He knew that in taking his
belongings, this infernal jester had done so, not for plunder, but for
the purpose of making the servants believe that he, Rochester, had been
stripped of everything by sharks, and sent home in an old suit of
clothes; all the same he would charge Rochester with the taking of his
things, he would teach this practical joker how to behave.

To cool himself and collect his thoughts before going to the Savoy, he
took a walk in the Green Park.

That one word "Tosh!" uttered by the woman, in answer to what he had
said, told him more about Rochester than many statements. This man
wanted a cold bath, he wanted to be held under the tap till he cried for
mercy.

Walking, now with the stick under his right arm and his left hand in his
trousers pocket, he felt something in the pocket. It was a coin. He took
it out. It was a penny, undiscovered evidently, and unremoved by the
valet.

It was also a reminder of his own poverty stricken condition. His
thoughts turned from Rochester and his jokes, to his own immediate and
tragic position. The whole thing was his own fault. It was quite easy to
say that Rochester had led him along and tempted him; he was a full
grown man and should have resisted temptation. He had let strong drink
get hold of him; well, he had paid by the loss of his money, to say
nothing of the way his self-respect had been bruised by this jester.

Near Buckingham Palace he turned back, walking by the way he had come,
and leaving the park at the