III
"Yes, I'm going to stay here to-night. As it's a mere formality, I shall want a room to sit in, and if you have no objection I'll take Number 3 on the rear corridor."
"I'm sorry, but Number 3 is totally unfit for use, as you've already seen."
"Oh, I'm not particular. Put a table in and a good light, and I'll get along with the rest. I have something to do. Number 3 will answer."
The landlord shifted his feet, cast a quick scrutinising look at the other's composed face, and threw back his head with a quick laugh.
"As you will. I can't make you comfortable on such short notice, but that's your lookout. I've several other rooms vacant."
"I fancy that room," was all the reply he got.
Mr. Quimby at once gave his orders. They were received by Jake with surprise.
Fifteen minutes later Hammersmith prepared to install himself in these desolate quarters. But before doing so he walked straight to the small parlour where he had last seen Miss Demarest and, knocking, asked for the privilege of a word with her. It was not her figure, however, which appeared in the doorway, but that of the landlady.
"Miss Demarest is not here," announced that buxom and smooth-tongued woman. "She was like to faint after you gentlemen left the room, and I just took her upstairs to a quiet place by herself."