"
He was thinking of certain valuables belonging to himself which had
been abstracted from his drawing-room on the occasion of the burglar's
visit to the School House.
Fenn crossed the room, and began to inspect the table indicated. On it
was as mixed a collection of valuable and useless articles as one
could wish to see. He saw his cup at once, and attached himself to it.
But of all the other exhibits in this private collection, he could
recognise nothing else as his property.
"There is nothing of mine here except the cup, sir," he said.
"Ah. Then that is all, I think. You are going back to Mr Kay's. Then
please send Kennedy to me. Good night, Fenn."
"Good night, sir."
Even now Fenn could not understand it. The more he thought it over,
the more his brain reeled. He could grasp the fact that his cap and
his cup were safe again, and that there was evidently going to be no
sacking for the moment. But how it had all happened, and how the
police had got hold of his cap, and why they had returned it with the
loot gathered in by the burglar who had visited Kay's and the School
House, were problems which, he had to confess, were beyond him.
He walked to Kay's through the rain with the cup under his mackintosh,
and freely admitted to himself that there were things in heaven and
earth--and particularly earth--which no fellow could understand.
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