out of the newspapers," observed the manager morosely.
"But this would be the worst of all. If I could have known, when the
Turkish Embassy reserved the apartment--"

"The Turkish Embassy never reserved any apartment for Telfik Bey," put
in the Fifth Assistant Secretary of State.

"Surely you are mistaken, sir," replied the hotel man. "I saw their
emissary myself. He specified for rooms on the south side, either the
third or fourth floor. Wouldn't have anything else."

"You gave him a definite reservation?" asked Jones.

"Yes; 335 and 336."

"Has the man been here since?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"A Turk, you think?"

"I suppose so. Foreign, anyway."

"Anything about him strike you particularly?"

"Well, he was tall and thin and looked sickly. He talked very soft, too,
like a sick man."

The characterization of the Pearlington station agent recurred to the
interrogator's mind. "Had he--er--white hair?" he half yawned.

"'No," replied the manager, and, in the same breath, the budding
diplomat demanded:

"What are you up to, Average? Why should he?"

Average Jones turned to him. "To what other hotels would the Turkish
Embassy be likely to send its men?"

"Sometimes their charge d'affaires goes to the Nederstrom."

"Go up there and find out whether a room has been reserved for Telfik
Bey, and if so--"

"They wouldn't reserve at two hotels, would they?"

"By whom," concluded Average Jones, shaking his head at the
interruption. "Find out who occupied or reserved the apartments on
either side."

Mr. Thomas Colvin McIntyre lifted a wrinkling eyebrow. "Really, Jones,"
he observed, "you seem to be employing me rather in the capacity of a
messenger boy."

"If you think a messenger boy could do it as well, ring for one,"
drawled Average Jones, in his mildest voice. "Meantime, I'll be in the
Turk's room here."

Numbers 335 and 336, which the manager opened, after the prompt if
somewhat sulky departure of Mr. McIntyre, proved to consist of a small
sitting room, a bedroom and a bath, each with a large window giving on
the cross-street, well back from Fifth Avenue.

"Here's where he was found." The manager indicated a spot near the wall
of the sitting-room and opposite the window. "He had just pushed the
button when he fell."

"How do you know that?"

"Bronson, the bell-boy on that call, answered. He knocked several times
and got no answer. Then he opened the door and saw Mr. Telfik down, all
in a he