F. GRANT PALMER.
"That is the man, Mr. Lawrence," exclaimed Fred in excitement. "He has come for his valise."
"Bring Mr. Palmer up in about five minutes," said Lawrence; "not sooner."
"All right, sir!"
"Now let us repack the valise," said the detective. "I always carry a large bunch of keys with me, and shall probably find one that will relock it."
The shirts, socks, and other articles which had been taken from the bag were carefully replaced, and Ferguson, as he had thought probable, found a key which fitted the lock. Then the valise was laid carefully on the sofa.
"Mr. Palmer must not see us, and particularly the train-boy," said the detective, "or he will think something is up. Where can you conceal us?"
"There is a bedroom attached to the apartment," said Lawrence. "Go in there, all of you, and remain till I call you. You can leave the door ajar, as you will probably be curious to hear what goes on between us."
"Capital! Couldn't be better!"
Ferguson, followed by the two boys, entered the smaller room, and waited impatiently for the entrance of Palmer.
A knock was heard.
"Come in!" Lawrence called out lazily.
The door opened, and F. Grant Palmer entered, carrying in his hand a valise which seemed to be a fac-simile of the one lying on the sofa. Palmer's quick eye caught sight of it as he entered the room.
"Pardon me for my intrusion!" he said suavely, "but I believe we exchanged valises—at the Clifton—this morning."