lipping of the clubs, and his theory was borne out
subsequently by the negro porter who had brought Curtis's belongings
upstairs. But an atmosphere of suspicion, of non-comprehension, had
been created around the missing man, and it was not to be dispelled,
even in Steingall's acute mind, by whittling away the mystery of the
blocked door to a minor incident which might occur in any hotel any day.

Leaving the mechanic and the negro to patch the shattered door
sufficiently to serve its purpose until it was replaced by another in
the morning, the clerk escorted the representatives of the law
downstairs. Of course, their departure from the hall and their
prolonged absence had been noted by the phalanx of reporters, and they
were surrounded instantly. Searching questions were fired at them, but
Steingall, who knew how to use the press for his own ends, countered by
asking genially:

"In your hunt for copy, have any of you boys come across Mr. John D.
Curtis?"

"The man who really saw the riot? I guess not. We want him badly."

An approving grin from his colleagues vouched for the speaker's
accuracy.

"Who was killed, anyhow, Steingall?" demanded the journalist who had
answered the detective.

"We don't know, yet."

"Does Curtis know?"

"He said he didn't, but I'll tell you something--I shan't be happy till
I've had another chat with him."

"Can anyone say who 'John D. Curtis, of Pekin,' really is?" went on the
reporter.

"That is the man we are looking for. If there are police officers
present, I want them to understand that Curtis should be arrested at
sight."

Everyone turned at the sound of the authoritative English voice which
had intervened so unexpectedly in the conclave. They saw an elderly
man, well dressed, and bearing the unmistakable tokens of good social
standing. With him was a foreigner, a most truculent looking person,
whose collar, shirt, and waistcoat carried other signs, quite as
obvious, but curiously ominous in view of the cause of this gathering
in the hall of the hotel.

"May I ask who you are, sir?" said Steingall.

"I am the Earl of Valletort," said the stranger, "and this is Count
Ladislas Vassilan."

"Ah! Count Vassilan is not an Englishman?"

"No, but----"

"Is he, by any chance, a Hungarian?"

"Count Vassilan is a Hungarian prince. But the nationality of either
of us is unimportant. Are you connected with the New York police?"

"Yes," said Steingall. He answer