"Possibly your friend will place herself in communication with me.
Saunders, show this lady out."
I fancy she was so taken aback by my manner that for the moment she
was speechless. Anyhow, she went, and regained the use of her tongue
when she got outside. I heard her rating Saunders soundly as she went
downstairs. A young man came next, with something about him which
smacked of a provincial town.
"My name's Parkins. You've got a pretty crowd downstairs. I didn't
expect this sort of thing, or I wouldn't have come. A lot of Johnnies
seem to be on the prowl for a purse. Was the one you found plain
leather, with a single pocket, and three fivers inside?"
"Not the least like it."
"Oh! The fact is, I'm up in town for an holiday, and the night before
last I went on the razzle, and some Johnny boned my purse, and I
thought you might have got it."
I do not know what he meant, or if he intended to insult me--he seemed
to be a simple sort of youth--but he was gone before I had a chance of
asking him. He was followed by an elderly gentleman, whom I had reason
to suppose, before I had got rid of him, was either a seasoned liar,
or more or less insane. He seated himself--uninvited by me--crossed
his legs, and nursed his silk hat and umbrella.
"I suppose it is a purse you've found?"
"Of course it is. Have you lost one?"
"It isn't a Gladstone bag?"
"A Gladstone bag?" I was a little dazed by my efforts to grasp the
man's meaning, and the question was such an absurd one.
"I take it that if it had been a Gladstone bag I should have mentioned
it in my advertisement. I am still able to distinguish between the one
and the other."
"Nor a silk umbrella with a silver mount and a crest on top, like
this?"
He held out the one he had been holding.