“I’ll see what name he registered under,” said Dan. Inquiry at the desk revealed that the object of Dan’s curiosity had registered as Mr. G. Seven of Chicago.
“He’s in the dining room,” said Tim when he rejoined his companions. “We might as well sit down here. He’ll have to pass almost directly in front of us, which will give Dan a good chance to see him.”
“If Dan can’t identify him, I’ll be glad to help you go through the files,” offered Ralph.
“Thanks. With all of the details necessary in arranging for the flying circus I’ll be glad to have a little extra help. Look sharp now. Here comes our man.”
“Mr. Seven” was dressed in the same well-tailored suit he had worn when he stepped out of the Day Express and into the life of the flying reporter. He walked slowly from the dining room toward the elevators in full view of the sharp eyes of the newspapermen. They watched the elevator doors close and turned to pool the results.
Dan Watkins shook his head.
“I’m afraid I’m of no help. There’s something definitely familiar about the face but I can’t place the name. Maybe it will come to me later.”
Tim swung around to Ralph. “What about you?”
“I’m just another disappointment and in the same fix as Dan. ‘Mr. Seven’s’ face is familiar but that’s as far as it goes. His name is among the missing.”
“If ‘Mr. Seven’ will only stay around until this air circus is over Sunday I’ll find out what’s behind his mysterious coming to Atkinson,” said Tim, who felt that “Mr. Seven” had challenged his ability as a reporter.