"You won't find him here," returned the hotel man, brusquely. "I discharged him two weeks ago."
"Discharged him?" queried Songbird, and his tone showed his disappointment. "Any trouble with him?"
"Oh, yes, lots of trouble. Are you friends of his?"
"We certainly are not," answered Sam. "But we'd like to find out something about him."
"I'm glad you are not friends of his," continued the hotelkeeper. "I feel very sore over that man. I took him in and gave him a good job, and paid him a good deal more than he was worth. But he wouldn't work—in fact he was the laziest man I ever saw—and so I had to discharge him. I paid him all that was coming to him, and when he got out he was mean enough to sneak off with some of my clothing, and also a pair of my gloves and my rubbers. If I could lay my hands on him, I'd be strongly tempted to hand him over to the police."
"Did he take an overcoat of yours and a fur cap?" demanded Songbird, quickly.
"He certainly did. A heavy, dark-gray overcoat and one of these fur caps that you can pull down over your ears and over the back of the head."
"He must have been the same fellow," remarked Sam. "And the fact that he robbed this man here goes to prove what sort of rascal he really is."
"Did he steal anything from you people?" asked the hotelkeeper, curiously.
"I think he did," answered Songbird. "Did you hear anything of the attack that took place a few days ago on the road near Ashton, in which a young fellow was robbed of four thousand dollars in cash?"