"Ah," mused the clerk, "we have with us Mr. Poppy--Popo--" He stared at

the signature close up. "Hanged if I can make it out! It looks like

some new brand of soft drink we'll be having after July first. Greek

or Bulgarian. Anyhow, he didn't awsk for a bawth. Looks as if he needed

one, too. Here, boy!"

"Ye-ah!"

"Take a peek at this John Hancock."

"Gee! That must be the guy who makes that drugstore drink--Boolzac."

The clerk swung out, but missed the boy's head by a hair. The boy stood

off, grinning.

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"Well, you ast me!"

"All right. If anybody else comes in tell 'em we're full up. I'll be a

wreck to-morrow without my usual beauty sleep." The clerk dropped into

his chair again and elevated his feet to the radiator.

"Want me t' git a pillow for yuh?"

"No back talk!"--drowsily.

"Oh! boy, but I got one on you!"

"What?"

"This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage, and yuh give 'im the key

without little ol' three-per in advance."

"No grip?"

"Nix. Not a toot'brush in sight."

"Well, the damage is done. I might as well go to sleep."

It was not premeditated on the part of the clerk to give the squat man

the room adjoining that of Hawksley's. The key had been nearest his

hand. But the squat man trembled with excitement when he noted that it

was stamped 214. He had taken particular pains to search the register

for Hawksley's number before rousing the clerk. He hadn't counted on any

such luck as this. His idea had been merely to watch the door of Room

212.

He had the feline foot, as they say. He moved about lightly and without

sound in the dark. Almost at once he approached one of the two doors

and put his ear to the panel. Running water. The fool had time to take a

bath!

A plan flashed into his head. Why not end the affair here and now, and

reap the glory for himself? What mattered the net if the fish swam into

your hand? Wasn't this particularly his affair? It was the end, not the

means. A close touch in Hong-Kong, but the fool had slipped away. But

there, in the next room, assured that he had escaped--it would be

easy. The squat man tiptoed to the window. Luck of luck, there was a

fire-escape platform! He would let half an hour pass, then he would

act. The ape, with his British mannerisms! Death to the breed, root and

branch! He sat down to wait.




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