“No, but in a matter such as this, we can’t afford to make a mistake.”
“I don’t recall to whom I talked,” Walz said with a scowl. “But the dope was straight. Warner is dead. I’ve kept my agreement. Now I want that map.”
“See us in the morning at breakfast,” Mr. Livingston said suavely.
“I told you I have to take an early train.”
“We’ll be up before seven o’clock,” Mr. Livingston promised him. “Meet us here at seven thirty. Okay?”
Walz started to argue, then suddenly changed his mind.
“All right,” he agreed. “Breakfast at seven thirty. Get a good sleep. You still have a long ride before you.”
In leaving the dining room, the Scouts casually inquired of the hotel owner if he knew anyone by the name of Craig Warner.
“Never heard of him,” he replied.
Once the Scouts were in Mr. Livingston’s room, they discussed turning the map over to the motel owner.