When the door was closed he opened the book, and putting his finger on Hooker’s signature, inquired if that was the man. I replied in the affirmative.
The landlord was then admitted into our council, and a cautiously whispered conference took place.
The landlord informed us that Hooker’s wife and children were up stairs in the apartment above us, and that he had stowed large quantities of baggage in an adjoining room.
At that moment Mrs. Hooker was expecting her husband by the first train from Toronto, after which they intended leaving, but where they intended to go he had no idea.
O’Leary advised me to change my quarters from St. Lawrence Hall Hotel to the Montreal House, and keep a watchful eye on the movements of the family, so as to be ready to confront the husband on his arrival.
I hastened to the hotel, removed all traces of my address and railway tickets from my luggage, and entered my name on the arrival book of the Montreal Hotel as Mr. V. Robinson, from Boston.
I lounged about the place with a view to picking up any stray piece of information I could. I heard, among other things, that Hooker had lodged his money in the Merchants’ Bank.
I thought this of sufficient importance to communicate to my solicitor at once.
On my return I was somewhat startled by the announcement that Hooker, who had just arrived, was then sitting down to dinner in the public room.
There was evidently no time to be lost, as he had ordered his bill, and would leave in half an hour.