Part 38 (1/2)

”If we find him,” he began, as they came to the square, ”you--”

”We must try not to be brutal, Larry,” warned Peter soberly. ”I remind myself that he is an elderly man--”

”If we find him,” began Varney again, ”you will please remember that he belongs to me. Higginson is strictly my pickings.”

Peter grunted, looking rather annoyed too.

They crossed the square, two determined-looking men, and entered the Palace Hotel. Behind the desk a bored clerk sat paring his nails with a pair of office scissors. He looked up with a certain resentfulness.

”Excuse my interruption,” said Varney. ”Is Mr. Higginson in?”

The clerk's glance lowered tiredly. ”Naw. Left town on the four-seven.”

”I don't believe it,” said Peter instantly.

There followed a silence. So stern were the gazes fastened upon the clerk that, looking hastily up at Peter's word, he promptly lost something of his lordly demeanor and became for the moment almost human.

”Well, sir, he's left _us_. _Said_ he was takin' the four-seven.”

”Where did he go?” demanded Varney.

”Don't know, sir, but I think to New York.”

”You must know where he checked his baggage to.”

”Didn't have any baggage, sir,” protested the clerk. ”Only his suit-case.”

”Did he leave no address for the forwarding of his mail?”

”Naw, sir. He did not.”

”Of course not. Why on earth should he?” said Peter.

Desisting from the absent but fierce stare with which he was transfixing the clerk, he drew Varney hurriedly aside.

”All bluff!” he stated positively. ”Is it likely, after _his_ day's work, that he'd be lolling around the lobby waiting for us to call? He's _moved_! But depend on it, he's got more work to do, and he _hasn't left town_!”

”If that's so, where do you recommend looking?”

Peter made a large gesture. ”That's a horse of another color. I told you he had a faculty for disappearing into a hole and pulling the hole in after him. If anybody besides Ryan knows where he is, I should say that it might be Miss Carstairs. She seems to be his only friend on our side of the fence, since I tipped Hare off.”

Varney all but jumped. ”I'll ask her!” he offered almost precipitately.

”The very thing!”

”It is quite possible,” continued Peter, tensely thoughtful, ”that the old rascal has sneaked to her since the luncheon, to try to pump something out of her about our movements--even within the bounds of possibility that he is with her at this moment--”

”A great suggestion!” said Varney cordially. ”You certainly have a head on you, Peter. Of course, on the other hand, it is quite possible that he _has_ skipped--made a bee-line for Newspaper Row. In that case, I'll see if she--Miss Carstairs, you know--if she knows his address in New York, and I'll hunt him up to-night.”

Peter, glancing at his watch, discovered that he was already fifteen minutes late for his committee meeting.