Winsor. [Looking at his watch] Half-past eleven. [Yawns] Newmarket always makes me sleepy.  You’re keeping Morison up.

     Lady Adela goes to the door, blowing a kiss.  Charles goes up to his
     dressing-table and begins to brush his hair, sprinkling on essence. 
     There is a knock on the corridor door.

Come in.

     De Levis enters, clad in pyjamas and flowered dressing-gown.  He is
     a dark, good-looking, rather Eastern young man.  His face is long
     and disturbed.

Hallo!  De Levis!  Anything I can do for you?

De Levis. [In a voice whose faint exoticism is broken by a vexed excitement] I say, I’m awfully sorry, Winsor, but I thought I’d better tell you at once.  I’ve just had—­er—­rather a lot of money stolen.

Winsor.  What! [There is something of outrage in his tone and glance, as who should say:  “In my house?”] How do you mean stolen?

De Levis.  I put it under my pillow and went to have a bath; when I came back it was gone.

Winsor.  Good Lord!  How much?

De Levis.  Nearly a thousand-nine hundred and seventy, I think.

Winsor.  Phew! [Again the faint tone of outrage, that a man should have so much money about him].

De Levis.  I sold my Rosemary filly to-day on the course to Bentman the bookie, and he paid me in notes.

Winsor.  What?  That weed Dancy gave you in the Spring?

De Levis.  Yes.  But I tried her pretty high the other day; and she’s in the Cambridgeshire.  I was only out of my room a quarter of an hour, and I locked my door.

Winsor. [Again outraged] You locked—­

De Levis. [Not seeing the fine shade] Yes, and had the key here. [He taps his pocket] Look here! [He holds out a pocket-book] It’s been stuffed with my shaving papers.

Winsor. [Between feeling that such things don’t happen, and a sense that he will have to clear it up] This is damned awkward, De Levis.

De Levis. [With steel in his voice] Yes.  I should like it back.

Winsor.  Have you got the numbers of the notes?

De Levis.  No.

Winsor.  What were they?

De Levis.  One hundred, three fifties, and the rest tens and fives.

Winsor.  What d’you want me to do?

De Levis.  Unless there’s anybody you think—­

Winsor. [Eyeing him] Is it likely?

De Levis.  Then I think the police ought to see my room.  It’s a lot of money.

Winsor.  Good Lord!  We’re not in Town; there’ll be nobody nearer than
Newmarket at this time of night—­four miles.