"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out."
"I did, but he won't go."
"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine."
"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.
"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute."
The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame.
"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.
"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."
"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"
The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise.