He sent round for his clothes next day, but he did not see Mr. Teak until a month afterwards.  His fists clenched and his mouth hardened, but Mr. Teak, with a pathetic smile, held out his hand, and Mr. Chase, after a moment’s hesitation, took it.  Mr. Teak, still holding his friend’s hand, piloted him to a neighbouring hostelry.

“It was my mistake, Alf,” he said, shaking his head, “but it wasn’t my fault.  It’s a mistake anybody might ha’ made.”

“Have you found out who took it?” inquired Mr. Chase, regarding him suspiciously.

Mr. Teak gulped and nodded.  “I met Bert Adams yesterday,” he said, slowly.  “It took three pints afore he told me, but I got it out of ’im at last.  My missis took it herself.”

Mr. Chase put his mug down with a bang.  “What?” he gasped.

“The day after she found you with your head up the chimbley,” added Mr. Teak, mournfully.  “She’s shoved it away in some bank now, and I shall never see a ha’penny of it.  If you was a married man, Alf, you’d understand it better.  You wouldn’t be surprised at anything.”