"No bicycle there," he remarked to himself, as he closed the
door. "I wonder what they did with it."



CHAPTER IV. MISS PENELOPE MORSE

It was already a little past the customary luncheon hour at the
Carlton, and the restaurant was well filled. The orchestra had
played their first selection, and the stream of incoming guests
had begun to slacken. A young lady who had been sitting in the
palm court for at least half an hour rose to her feet, and,
glancing casually at her watch, made her way into the hotel. She
entered the office and addressed the chief reception clerk.

"Can you tell me," she asked, "if Mr. Hamilton Fynes is staying
here? He should have arrived by the Lusitania last night or early
this morning."

It is not the business of a hotel reception clerk to appear
surprised at anything. Nevertheless the man looked at her, for a
moment, with a curious expression in his eyes.

"Mr. Hamilton Fynes!" he repeated. "Did you say that you were
expecting him by the Lusitania, madam?"

"Yes!" the young lady answered. "He asked me to lunch with him
here today. Can you tell me whether he has arrived yet? If he is
in his room, I should be glad if you would send up to him."