this matter thoroughly."

An ambulance came just then, to take the body to the mortuary, and,
when it had departed, the two men quitted the traffic bureau where they
had been talking, and entered the hotel. Here, excitement was still at
fever heat. The press had heard of the murder, and a number of
reporters were interviewing everybody in sight, while photographers
were adding to the confusion by taking flash-light pictures.

The super-clerk was already showing tokens of the strain. He glared
wildly at Steingall when the latter asked if Mr. Curtis was in.

"You're the hundred and first man to whom I have answered 'No' in the
last quarter of an hour," he said.

"The first hundred didn't count, anyway," was the dry response. "Pull
yourself together, and read that card slowly and collectedly."

"Well," he went on, seeing that the clerk had apparently mastered the
copper-plate script, "you see I am not here for amusement. Now, about
Curtis, are you sure he is not in his room?"

"His key has not been given up, but I have sent to 605, and we can't
get in."

"What do you mean? Is the door locked?"

"We can open every lock in the hotel. It is bolted."

"Have you knocked?"

"We've done everything, short of breaking open the door."

Steingall looked perplexed, but the police captain was confident.

"He has buncoed us, for sure," he said with a smile, though the smile
boded evil for John D. Curtis at their next meeting.

"Did you notice him particularly when he registered?" demanded the
detective, after a pause.

"Yes. Came to-night by the _Lusitania_. Here is his signature."

The three men gazed at the register, and Steingall produced a card, on
which Curtis had written the name of the hotel.

"Same handwriting!" he murmured. "By the way," he continued,
addressing the clerk, "were you here when the murder took place?"

"Yes."

"Did you see anything of it?"

"Not a scratch. I was busy with a lady, who was worrying me about a
train to Montclair. She was five minutes making up her mind whether to
take the Jersey tunnel or the 23rd Street ferry."

"The only other person, beside Curtis, who saw the whole affair was the
hall-porter?"

"I guess that's so."

"Call him into the office."

Questioned anew, the hall-porter was positive about everything except
Curtis's connection with the attack. The reporters had scalped him,
metaphorically speaking, and his brain was seething. He said "No" when
h