Stuart," as the clerk loitered behind.

"Guess not, sir; I'm needed down at the desk, we are short-handed
to-night. Let me know how the hunt turns out," and he stepped into
the vestibule. "Good night."

"Good night," called Kent, and he accompanied Ferguson as far as the
bathroom door, then returned to his inspection of Rochester's table.
He had just completed his task when the detective rejoined him.

"No trace of any one," the latter announced. "Some one put up a
joke on Stuart, I imagine. Find what you wished, sir?"

Kent was distinctly annoyed by the question. "Yes," he replied
shortly.

Ferguson ignored his curt tone. "Will you spare me a few minutes
of your time, Mr. Kent?" he asked persuasively. "I won't detain
you long."

"Certainly." Kent moved over to the chair in the window which he
had occupied before and pointed to another, equally as comfortable.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as Ferguson dropped back and
stretched himself in the soft depths of the big chair.

"Supply some information," answered the detective promptly. "Just
a minute," as Kent started to interrupt. "You don't recall me, but
I met you while working on the Chase case; you handled that trial
in great shape," Ferguson looked admiringly at his companion. "Lots