"I'm goin' to tell you somethin'. It's a secret and don't you let on to anybody. I ain't goin' to be a bell-hop all my life, I ain't. I got ambition, and this here hotel life ain't for me."
"What—what are you going to be then?" stammered the astonished Patricia.
"I'm goin' to be a detective or a secret service agent or somethin' like that. I got it in me, I have. Sort of sense things out an' nose 'em down when no one suspects I'm anything but a 'buttons' in this here hotel. It's great sport. You see, not suspectin' I got more'n enough sense to carry me through the day's work, folks lets out a lot of things before me that they think I don't catch on to, an' I see a whole heap I'm not supposed to see. An' this here war has made a lot of lively doings about this place, I can tell you."
Patricia listened breathlessly. Here was confirmation of her own ideas, and more. Chet Jackson, beside being undoubtedly innocent of any complicity in the matter of the Crimson Patch might even become a valuable ally, if she did but dare to enlist his aid. She suddenly decided on a bold move.
"Chester," she said, "if you're going to do any detective work, try and do a little for us. The only trouble is, I can't tell you anything much about things, because they are very, very important secrets. So I don't know how you're going to get to work on it."
"Don't worry about tellin' me so much. I know a whole lot about you folks that you don't think I do. You'd be s'prised if I told you how much I do know!" Chet assured her darkly. "I gotta go now, because I been away from the office long enough. But next time I see you I'll tell you what I know an' we can decide what I'd better do. So long!"
And he was gone, leaving her in a maze of wonder over this new development.
CHAPTER VII
LEFT ALONE
Patricia went back into the room and sat down to think it all over. Chester Jackson's curious remarks had disturbed her strangely. What he had said about knowing "a heap more about things" than any one thought he did was a little alarming, to say the least. What did he—what could he know about her father's affairs, and how could he have found it out? If only he had time to tell her before he rushed away, and not left her with this bewildering scrap of information!
However, one thing was becoming every moment more certain in her mind. The boy was innocent of any part in the disappearance of the Crimson Patch, and might, besides, be enlisted as an ally in its recovery, if only she dared to confide in him more fully. She wished with all her soul that her father were with her, that he was not to be detained away over night. She wanted to talk it all over with him, to ascertain how much he thought it wise to trust this boy. But he was not here, and presently she must go and put herself in the care of Mrs. Quale for the night. Even now she ought to be calling up that lady on the telephone, as it was nearly dinner-time.