"You had better get up and have some breakfast, and then we'll go down to Scotland Yard. The police may be able to trace it into the hands of some pawnbroker." "I shall never see the old watch again," said Mr. Bootle, with a melancholy shake of the head. "And as for breakfast--don't mention the word." At this juncture, Philip Cleeve came in, looking none the worse for last night's vigil. The story of the double loss was at once poured into his ears by Freddy. Captain Lennox noticed how genuinely surprised he looked. "_You_ lost nothing, I suppose?" asked the Captain, in a grumbling tone, as if he could not get over his own loss. "Why, no," said Philip, with a laugh. "I had nothing about me worth taking--only a little loose silver and this ancient turnip--a family relic, three or four generations old." As he spoke he drew from his pocket a large old-fashioned silver watch, of the kind our great-grandfathers used to carry, and held it up for inspection. "Almost big enough for a family clock, is it not?" he asked, with another laugh, as he put it away again. There was silence for a minute or two, Lennox seeming lost in a reverie. Then he turned to Bootle. "Do you recollect at what time during the evening you looked at your watch last?" "My memory as to what happened during the latter part of the evening is anything but clear," said Freddy. "I seem to have a hazy recollection of pulling out my watch and looking at it when the clock in your room chimed something or other." "That would be half-past two," interrupted Lennox. "But I can't be quite sure on the point. How about your purse?--portemonnaie, or whatever it was?" "As to that, I only know that I missed it first when I came to undress. I might have been relieved of it hours before, or only a few minutes." "Don't you remember two or three rough-looking fellows hustling past us," asked Philip, "as we stood talking for a minute or two at the street corner just before Bootle got into the cab?" Lennox shook his head. "I can't say that I recollect the circumstance you speak of," he answered. "But I recollect the affair quite well," said Philip, positively. "One of the men nearly hustled me into the gutter. Nasty low-looking fellows they were. I think it most likely that they were the pickpockets." The Captain shrugged his shoulders, remarking that all he knew was that his money was gone; he crossed the room, and began to stare out of the window. Freddy Bootle was looking dreadfully uncomfortable. "I am sorry that I can't join you fellows at dinner to-day," said Philip. "From a letter I received this morning I find I must get back home at once." "Oh, nonsense!" both of them interrupted. "That won't do, Cleeve." "It must do. My mother has written for me. She's ill." "You can go down the first thing tomorrow," said Captain Lennox. "A few hours can't make much difference," added Bootle.