, and here you've mixed up with another important
job!"

CHAPTER XVII
THE BLACK SATCHEL

When Josie reached the hotel it was nearly midnight. Half the lights in
the office had been extinguished and behind the desk, reading a novel,
the night clerk sprawled in an easy chair.

She hadn't seen the night clerk before. He was a sallow-faced boy,
scarcely twenty years old, attired in a very striking suit of clothes
and wearing a gorgeous jewelled scarf-pin in his cravat. As he read, he
smoked a cigarette.

"Hello," said this brilliant individual, as Josie leaned over the
counter and regarded him with a faint smile. "You're No. 43, I guess,
and it's lucky old Boyle ain't here to read you a lecture--or to turn
you out. He won't stand for unmarried lady guests bein' out till this
hour, an' you may as well know it first as last."

"He's quite right," was Josie's calm reply. "I'll not do it again. My
key, please!"

He rose reluctantly and gave her the key.

"Do you sit up all night?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm s'posed to," he answered in a tone less gruff, "but towards
mornin' I snooze a little. Only way to pass the time, with noth'n' to
do an' nobody to talk to. It's a beastly job, at the best, an' I'm
goin' to quit it."

"Why don't you start a hotel of your own?" she suggested.

"You think you're kiddin' me, don't you? But I might even do that, if I
wanted to," he asserted, glaring at her as if he challenged
contradiction. "It ain't money that stops me, but hotel keepin' is a
dog's life. I've made a bid for a cigar-store down the street, an' if
they take me up, somebody can have this job."

"I see you're ambitious," said Josie. "Well, I hope you get the
cigar-store. Good night, Mr.--"

"My name's Tom Linnet. I won't tell the ol' boy you was out so late. So
long."

The elevator had stopped running, so Josie climbed the stairs and went
thoughtfully to her room. Kauffman had preceded her. She heard him drop
his shoes heavily upon the floor as he undressed.

She turned on the light and made some notes on her tablets, using the
same queer characters that she always employed. The last note read:
"Tom Linnet, night clerk at the Mansion House. New clothes; new
jewelry. Has money. Recently acquired, for no one with money would be a
night clerk. Wants to quit his job and buy a cigar store. Query: Who
staked Tom? And why?"

As she crawled into bed Josie reflected: "Mary Louise would be
astonished if she knew what I ha