"Didn't you think that was a bit funny?"
"Well, yes; but people are always doing funny things. We had a snuff manufacturer once who insisted on filling his room with parrots because he said the old buccaneers always had parrots, and Lafitte used to headquarter here. Then there was the music teacher from Idaho who—"
"About Mr Matson," Simon interrupted — "what was his friend's name?"
"I'm not sure. I think it was something like Black. But I didn't pay much attention. I knew it was all right, because I'd seen him with Mr Matson before."
"Can you describe him?"
"Yes. Tall and thin, with sort of gray-blond hair cut very short—"
"And a military bearing and a saber scar on the left cheek?"
"I didn't notice that," Baker said seriously. "Mr Matson made a lot of friends while he was at the hotel. He was always out for a good time, wanting to find girls and drinking a lot… I hope there isn't any trouble, is there?"
"I hope not. But this guy Black didn't say where Matson was going to move in with him?"
"No. He said Mr Matson would probably stop in and leave his next address when he sobered up." Baker looked at him anxiously. "Do you have some business connection with Mr Matson, Mr — ah—"