.

When the latter walked into the lobby of the Astoria, Mr. Alden was not
far away.

"Has Mr. Gale of New York arrived yet?" was the pressman's inquiry.

Yes. Mr. Gale of New York had arrived.

Upon learning which, Sheard seemed to hesitate, glancing about him as if
suspicious of espionage. Mr. Alden, deeply engaged, or so it appeared,
in selecting a cigar at the stall, was all ears--and through a mirror
before which he had intentionally placed himself, he could watch
Sheard's movements whilst standing with his back towards him.

At last Sheard took out his notebook and hastily scribbled something
therein. Tearing out the leaf, he asked for an envelope, which the boy
procured for him. With the closed book as a writing-pad, he addressed
the envelope. Then, enclosing the note, carefully sealed up the message,
and handed it to the boy, glancing about him the while with a palpable
apprehension.

Finally, lighting a cigarette with an air of nonchalance but ill
assumed, Sheard strolled out of the hotel.

He had not passed the door ere Alden was clamouring for an hotel
envelope. The boy was just about to enter a lift as the detective darted
across the lobby and entered with him. Short as the time at his disposal
had been, Mr. Alden had scrawled some illegible initial followed by
"Gale, Esq.," upon the envelope, and had stuck down the flap.

The boy quitted the lift on the fourth floor. So did Alden. One or two
passengers joined at that landing, but the unsuspecting boy went on his
way along the corridor, turned to the right and rapped on a door
numbered 63.

"Come in," he was instructed.

He entered, tray in hand. A tanned and bearded gentleman who was busily
engaged unpacking a large steamer trunk, looked up inquiringly.

"Gentleman couldn't wait, sir," said the boy, and proffered the message.

The bearded man took the envelope, drew his brows together in an
endeavour to recognise the scrawly handwriting; failed, and tore the
envelope open.

It was empty!

"See here, boy! What's the game?"

He threw the envelope on the floor beside him and stared hard at the
page.

"Excuse me, sir"--the boy was frightened--"excuse me, sir; but I saw the
gentleman put a note in!"

"Did you!" laughed the American, readily perceiving that whoever the
joker might be the boy was innocent of complicity. "You mean, you
thought you did! See here, what was he like?"

The boy described Sheard, and described him so aptly that he