fifteen minutes,” Hanale Mahenili continued. “Then I left the head table to go to his hotel. He’s been staying at the Royal Poinciana. On my way there, my fears that he had become ill increased.”

Mr. Mahenili paused, as if ordering his thoughts.

“Yes, yes. Go on.”

“At the hotel, I rang his room. There was no answer. I went to the desk, and they told me they believed the doctor was still in his room. He hadn’t left his key at the desk, which was his habit every time he left the room.”

“I’ll bet you were really worried then,” Biff said.

“I certainly was, young man. I called for the manager, and we went up to Johann’s room. The manager had a pass key, and, after knocking, we entered his suite.”

“And no Johann Weber,” Mr. Brewster said.

“That’s right, Tom. He has a two-room suite. He wasn’t in either room.”

“Was there any evidence that the room had been searched?”

Mr. Mahenili shook his head. “It was hard to tell. Papers on his desk were in a disordered mess. Two drawers in his bureau were pulled out, with clothing messed up, and a few things strewn on the door. But you know how careless Johann was. He was never one for neatness and order.”

“But it could have been someone else who had searched the desk, and pulled out the drawers,” Mr. Brewster said.

“Yes, it could. There was no way of telling definitely.”

“Sir,” Biff said. “Were you able to get any idea of when he had last been in his room?”

“No, Biff. We weren’t. I was coming to that. We questioned the elevator operators and the desk clerks. Both night and day clerks. None of them could remember when they had last seen the doctor.”

Biff’s brows were knitted in questioning thought. “Sir, I’d like to make a suggestion, or, rather, ask you this. Do you know if Dr. Weber usually had his breakfast in his room?”

“Why, the idea never occurred to us.”

“Good thinking, son,” Mr. Brewster said.

“And were the maids asked if his bed had been slept in 

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