This morning when I woke I thought I would
provide myself with some papers and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my
pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a
surprise, again a shock!
Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all
my notes, my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit,
in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and
pondered awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my
portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.
in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug. I could find
no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new scheme of villainy . . .