Desisting from the absent but fierce stare with which he was transfixing the clerk, he drew Varney hurriedly aside.
"All bluff!" he stated positively. "Is it likely, after his day's work, that he'd be lolling around the lobby waiting for us to call? He's moved! But depend on it, he's got more work to do, and he hasn't left town!"
"If that's so, where do you recommend looking?"
Peter made a large gesture. "That's a horse of another color. I told you he had a faculty for disappearing into a hole and pulling the hole in after him. If anybody besides Ryan knows where he is, I should say that it might be Miss Carstairs. She seems to be his only friend on our side of the fence, since I tipped Hare off."
Varney all but jumped. "I'll ask her!" he offered almost precipitately.
"The very thing!"
"It is quite possible," continued Peter, tensely thoughtful, "that the old rascal has sneaked to her since the luncheon, to try to pump something out of her about our movements—even within the bounds of possibility that he is with her at this moment—"
"A great suggestion!" said Varney cordially. "You certainly have a head on you, Peter. Of course, on the other hand, it is quite possible that he has skipped—made a bee-line for Newspaper Row. In that case, I'll see if she—Miss Carstairs, you know—if she knows his address in New York, and I'll hunt him up to-night."
Peter, glancing at his watch, discovered that he was already fifteen minutes late for his committee meeting.
"For this afternoon, then," he said, unwillingly, "you can have him, if you can find him. After to-day, though, he belongs to me. Wherever he is now, he'll certainly be back on the job to-morrow. Well—I'll leave you, then. Er—Larry. It's just as well not to be prowling around after dark by yourself, you know. I'll be back at the yacht early and we'll have dinner together before your train. Say six-thirty, eh?"
"I'll be there."