the wrong
hotel," he declared. "I don't see any Miss Aaronson here, either."

Morris scratched his head. He mentally passed in review Jacobson,
Abrahamson, and every other Biblical proper name combined with the
suffix "son," but rejected them all.

"The lady what I want to see it is buyer for a department store in
Duluth, what arrived here this morning," Morris explained.

"Let me see," the clerk mused; "buyer, hey? What was she a buyer of?"

"Cloaks and suits," Morris answered.

"Suits, hey?" the clerk commented. "Let me see--buyer of suits. Was that
the lady that was expecting somebody with an automobile?"

Morris nodded emphatically.

"Well, that party called for her and they left here about ten minutes
ago," the clerk replied.

"What!" Morris gasped.

"Maybe it was five minutes ago," the clerk continued. "A gentleman
with a red tie and a fine diamond pin. His name was Tucker or
Tuckerton or----"

"Tuchman," Morris cried.

"That's right," said the clerk; "he was a----"

But Morris turned on his heel and darted wildly toward the entrance.

"Say!" he cried, hailing the carriage agent, "did you seen it a lady
and a gent in an oitermobile leave here five minutes ago?"

"Ladies and gents leave here in automobiles on an average of every three
minutes," said the carriage agent.

"Sure, I know," Morris continued, "but the gent wore it a red tie with a
big diamond."

"Red tie with a big diamond," the carriage agent repeated. "Oh, yeh--I
remember now. The lady wanted to know where they was going, and the red
necktie says up to the Heatherbloom Inn and something about getting back
to his store afterward."

Morris nodded vigorously.

"So I guess they went up to the Heatherbloom Inn," the carriage
agent said.

Once more Morris darted away without waiting to thank his informant, and
again he climbed into the tonneau of the machine.

"Do you know where the Heatherbloom Inn is?" he asked the chauffeur.

"What you tryin' to do?" the chauffeur commented. "Kid me?"

"I ain't trying to do _nothing_," Morris explained. "I ask it you a
simple question: Do you know where the Heatherbloom Inn is?"

"Say! do you know where Baxter Street is?" the chauffeur asked, and
then without waiting for an answer he opened the throttle and they
glided around the corner into Fifth Avenue. It was barely half-past
twelve and the tide of fashionable traffic had not yet set in. Hence the
motor car made good progress, nor was it u