CHAPTER VII
WILLIAM was confronted with a genuine mystery, and he wasn't sure that he liked it. He viewed the affair from all available angles, but he could not find shallow water anywhere. A man, possessed of a scientific knowledge of anatomy, had laid out William Grogan as nice as you please and taken his wallet; then he had given it back, indirectly; but that didn't matter—the act, not the method, was the important thing. It wasn't a question of belated conscience. The man hadn't gone through that series of gymnastics for the mere sport of it. It was possible, however, that the hold-up man had tackled the wrong individual. But even then, thirty dollars wouldn't grow any smaller for that. William decided that it was not the work of a professional. Fat chance for that breed on board the Ajax, where the wealth of the passengers consisted of small bills, few and slim letters of credit. People who could afford to travel on their own, without the tender solicitude of Thomas Cook, had real bank-accounts. Finally he gave up the puzzle. There was neither head nor tail to it. Anyhow, he had thirty to blow in when he landed at Gibraltar.
Having resigned himself to the loss, the recovery
90
