"If anyone's been in my rooms, he's probably there still," I said, and began to search in the obvious way—looking under the bed. What I found sent me to the door again; for a curious, collapsible box, just big enough to hold a small child, turned the innocent, flitting figure I'd seen into something sinister. Quicker than light, thoughts shot through my head; the arrival of a "big box," my failure to find it in my room, the click of the lock, some knowledge of me by the man with the scar, and a fear of my vaunted "detective skill."  Slipping on a dressing-gown as I went, I stalked down the corridor to the door which opened to admit the child; and the knob was in my grasp when a voice spoke sharply at my back.  "Haven't you mistaken the room, sir?" the night watchman warned me. 

 I had met the man before, when coming in late, and he knew my number. He was a big Irishman, twice my size. I foresaw trouble, but went to meet it.  "I've reason to believe a thief's been in my rooms, and taken refuge here," I explained.  "I want this door opened."  With that I rattled the knob and knocked threateningly. Almost at once the door was unlocked, and the sweet face of a young woman in a neat, plain dressing-gown peeped out.  "Oh, what's the matter?" she faltered.  "Is it fire? We have a child here." 

 "I thought yuh was mistaken, sir!" cut in the watchman.  "Two ladies and a little midget came in late. I saw 'em. No, madam, there's no fire. This gentleman thought a thief had slipped into one of your rooms." 

 "Indeed, he is mistaken," the young woman assured us.  "We haven't finished undressing yet. I'm the child's nurse. If necessary, I can call my mistress, but she's very nervous."  As she glanced back into the room I caught a glimpse of a woman in grey who hadn't taken off her hat. A sort of motor bonnet it seemed to be, with a long veil attached. I got no sight of her face, for the nurse hastily shut the door, all but a crack which scarcely showed her rather piquant nose. 

 "That's enough, I guess, sir?" suggested the watchman.  "These ladies mustn't be disturbed. All the rooms along here are occupied by old clients. You go back to your suite and if there's any thief we'll find him. But maybe you was dreamin'?" 

 I heard the key turn again in the lock; but I realised that unless I wanted to risk a row and perhaps arrest for "disorderly conduct," I must bow to circumstances. For a moment I was tempted to persist, but I thought how much more important than anything it was to be free from entanglements, and able to 

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