usly.

"Then you go ahead, sir, and register us for breakfast, and I'll
attend to finding out about this new puzzle."

While Mr. Seaton went toward the desk, Tom signed to Hank Butts to
follow him aside.

"About all you can do, Hank, is to get outside, not far from the door,
and see whether Dalton goes out," Halstead declared, after having
briefly explained the situation. "If Dalton leaves the hotel, give us
word at once."

"Here, you take charge of this bag of mine, then," begged Hank,
turning so that the clerk at the desk could not see.

Butts had come ashore in a long rain-coat drawn on over his other
clothing. Now, he quickly opened a small satchel that he had also
brought with him.

"That old hitching weight of yours!" cried Tom, in a gasping
undertone, as he saw Hank slip that heavy iron object from the bag to
a hiding place under his coat. "How on earth do you happen to have
that thing with you?"

"It must have been a private tip from the skies," grinned Hank, "but I
saw the thing lying in the motor room and I picked it up and slipped
it into this satchel. Take the bag from me and I'll get out on the
porch."

All this took place so quietly that the clerk at the desk noticed
nothing. Halstead now carried the empty bag as he sauntered back to
the party. But he found chance to whisper to Joe:

"Anson Dalton must be in this hotel. Hank is slipping out to watch the
front of the house. Hadn't you better get around to the rear? If it
happens that the fellow is about to leave here, it might be worth our
while to know where he goes."

Nodding, Joe quietly slipped away. The negro with the red bag had now
entered the office. The bag, however, he took over to the coat-room
and left it there.

"Breakfast will be ready at any time after eight o'clock, gentlemen,"
announced the clerk.

Powell Seaton lighted a cigar, remaining standing by the desk. Tom
stood close by. The door of the office opened. Anson Dalton, puffing
at a cigarette, his gaze resting on the floor, entered. He was some
ten feet into the room before he looked up, to encounter the steady
gaze of Captain Halstead and the charter-man.

Starting ever so little, paling just a bit, Dalton returned that
steady regard for a few seconds, then looked away with affected
carelessness.

"Going to leave us to-day, Mr. Dalton?" inquired the clerk.

"I don't know," replied the scoundrel, almost sulkily. Then, lighting
a fresh cigarette, he strolled over by