t one among the
number whom he approached had any knowledge of the man, and therefore
could give him no information.

Tired and puzzled and vexed, he at length was compelled to return to the
hotel, and seek his much-needed repose.

His experience in St. Paul had thus far been far from satisfactory, and
yet the thought of abandoning his investigations in that city never
occurred to him. He had too frequently been compelled to battle with
unpromising circumstances in the past, to allow a temporary discomfiture
to dishearten him now. He felt that he was upon the right track, that
Duncan had certainly come from Sioux City to St. Paul, but whether he
had remained here any length of time, or had pushed on without
stopping, was the question that bothered him immensely. Resolving,
therefore, to renew his efforts in the morning, he soon fell asleep.

On the morrow, when he descended to the office of the hotel, preparatory
to partaking of his morning repast, he noticed with some little surprise
that a new face was behind the counter.

Surmising that this might be the night clerk, yet unrelieved from his
duties, and that Duncan might have arrived during the time he
officiated, Manning approached him, and propounded the usual question.
When he brought forth the photograph, to his intense delight, the clerk
recognized it at once. Turning to the register and hastily running over
the leaves, he pointed to a name inscribed thereon.

"That's the man," said he confidently.

Manning looked at the name indicated, and found scrawled in a very
uncertain hand:

"_John Tracy, Denver, Col._"

"He came in on a night train," continued the clerk. "He only remained to
breakfast and went away shortly afterward."

"Have you any idea which way he went?" inquired Manning.

"No, I cannot tell you that. He left the hotel shortly after breakfast
in a hack. He did not return after that, but sent the hackman here to
pay his bill and to obtain his valise. He acted very strange while he
was here, and I felt somewhat suspicious of him."

"Can you tell me the name of this hackman?" now asked Manning.

"I think his name is Davids," answered the clerk, "but I will ask the
baggage-man about him; he can, no doubt, tell me who he is."

The baggage-man was summoned and he distinctly remembered the
occurrence, and that the driver's name was Billy Davids, who was
well-known throughout the city, particularly among the sporting
fraternity.

Thankin