ANGE DISCLOSURE

On the ground, close to my bed, were three brass-headed carpet pins
which had apparently spilt accidentally out of a box.

The sharp point of each was upturned, and it was a marvel that during
the night I had not stepped upon them.

How had they come there? Was it by accident or design that they were
beside my bed?

At first I wondered whether the hotel upholsterer had been at work on
the previous day and had left them behind. He might have used them for
pinning down my carpet.

I took one up and examined it. Next second I stood aghast.

The others I also took up, handling them very gingerly, for around the
points of each was some colourless transparent substance which looked
like vaseline. Such a substance was not ordinarily upon the points of
carpet pins.

A horrible thought flashed across my mind. Therefore I carefully
placed the three pins upon the small glass tray upon the
dressing-table, and dressed as quickly as I could, reflecting
the while upon my adventure with the stranger whom I had taken
to be a thief.

I shaved, swallowed the coffee which the young waiter brought me, and
at once descended to the bureau; when in French I inquired of the
clerk for Senor Salavera. He examined the register and replied
politely:

"We have no one of that name staying here, senor."

"What?" I cried. "He was in Room 175 last night!"

"Number 175 was Senor Solier," replied the smart young clerk. "He paid
his bill and left just after seven o'clock this morning."

"But I saw his identification papers--his passport--letters addressed
to him as Senor Salavera!"

"That may be so, senor," was the suave reply. "But he registered here
as Senor Solier." And then he dropped into English, which he spoke
very fairly. "Of course people who stay at hotels do not always give
their correct names. They do not wish them published in visitors'
lists in the newspapers. Perhaps it is only natural," and he smiled.

"Have you any one named Pedro Espada in the hotel?" I inquired.

Again he consulted his register, but shook his head.

"Nobody of that name," he replied.

I hesitated. Then I asked:

"Did the gentleman who spent the night in Room 175 depart alone?"

The reception-clerk called the uniformed concierge, and asked:

"Did Number 175 leave alone?"

"Yes," was the reply. "He caught the early express for Zaragoza. He
was going on to Barcelona, he told me. He went in the omnibus."

"No one with him?"