Part 21 (1/2)

”I don't know about your Mr. Paxton; but it's the Mr. Paxton who's stopping here, so don't you make any mistake about it. I'm told he's out. One of my men will stay here till he returns. In the meantime I want to know if there is any property of his about the place. If there is, I want to have a look at it.”

The manager considered.

”I don't wish to seem to doubt, Mr. Ireland, that you are what you say you are, or, indeed, anything at all that you have said. But an effort has already been made once to-day to gain access--under what turned out to be false pretences--to certain property which Mr. Paxton has committed to our keeping. And I am compelled to inform you that it is a rule of ours not, under any circ.u.mstances, to give up property which has been intrusted to us by our guests to strangers without a proper authority.”

Ireland smiled grimly.

”Where is there somewhere I can speak to you in private? I'll show you authority enough, and to spare.”

The manager, having taken Mr. Ireland into the inner room, the detective lost no time in explaining the position.

”You're a sensible man, Mr. Treadwater. You don't want to have any bother in a place of this sort, and I don't want to make any more bother than I'm compelled. Mr. Paxton's wanted for a big thing, about as big a thing as I've ever been engaged in. I wasn't likely to come here without my proper credentials, hardly. Just you cast your eye over this.”

Ireland unfolded a blue paper which he had taken from among a sheaf of other papers, which were in the inner pocket of his coat, and held it up before the manager's face.

”That's a search warrant. If you're not satisfied with what you see of it, I'll read it to you, and that's all I'm bound to do. I've reason to believe that Cyril Paxton has certain stolen property in his possession here, in this hotel. If you choose to give me facilities to examine any property he may have, well and good. If you don't choose, this warrant authorises me to search the building. I'll call my men in, and I'll have it searched from attic to bas.e.m.e.nt--every drawer and every box which the place contains, if it takes us all night to do it.”

Mr. Treadwater rubbed his hands together. He did not look pleased.

”I had no idea, when I spoke, that you were in possession of such a doc.u.ment. As you say, I certainly do not wish to have a bother. A search warrant is authority enough, even for me. All the property Mr.

Paxton has in the hotel is in this room. I will show it to you.” The manager moved to a door which seemed to have been let into the wall.

”This is our strong-room. As you perceive, it is a letter lock. Only one person, except myself, ever has the key to it.”

While he was speaking he opened the door. He disappeared into the recess which the opening of the door disclosed. Presently he reappeared carrying a Gladstone in his hand. He laid the bag on the table, in front of Mr. Ireland.

”That is all the property Mr. Paxton has in the hotel.”

”How do you know?”

The manager smiled--the smile of superiority.

”My dear sir, it is part of my duty to know what every guest brings into the hotel. You can, if you like, go up to the room which he occupied last night, but you'll find nothing in it of Mr. Paxton's.

All that he brought with him is contained in that Gladstone bag.”

”Then we'll see what's in it. I'm going to open it in your presence, so that you'll be evidence to prove that I play no hankey-pankey tricks.”

Mr. Ireland did open it in the manager's presence. With, considering the absence of proper tools, a degree of dexterity which did him credit. But after all it appeared that there was nothing in it to adequately reward him for the trouble he had taken. The bag was filled chiefly with s.h.i.+rts and underclothing. Although every article seemed to be bran-new, there was absolutely nothing which, correctly speaking, could be said to be of value. With total want of ceremony the investigator turned the entire contents of the bag out upon the table. But though he did so, nothing in any way out of the common was discovered.

Judging from the expression of his countenance, Mr. Ireland did not seem to be contented.

”Wasn't there an attempt at burglary here last night? One's been reported.”

”There was. For the first time in the history of the hotel. An attempt was made from the street to gain admission through the window, to Mr.

Paxton's bedroom.”

”And didn't you say that an attempt had been made to-day to gain access, by means of false pretences, to Mr. Paxton's property?”

”That is so.”