Then one question was settled for Hatch. After a moment the valet returned with the bath robe, which had been in the far room. It was Cabell's bath robe. As Jean passed the reporter an end of the robe caught on a corner of the trunk, and, stopping, the reporter unfastened it. A tiny strand of thread clung to the metal; Hatch detached it and stood idly twirling it in his fingers.
"As I was saying," he resumed, "I rather like the place, but the price is too much. Suppose you leave it in the hands of the manager of the house----"
"I had intended doing that," the Southerner interrupted.
"Well, I'll see him about it later," Hatch added.
With a cordial, albeit preoccupied, handshake, Cabell ushered him out. Hatch went down in the elevator with a feeling of elation; a feeling that he had accomplished something. The manager was waiting to get into the lift.
"Do you happen to remember the name of the young lady who occupied Mr. Cabell's suite while he was away?" he asked.
"Miss Austin," said the manager, "but she's not young. She was about forty-five years old, I should judge."
"Did Mr. Cabell have his servant Jean with him?"
"Oh, no," said the manager. "The valet gave up the suite to Miss Austin entirely, and until Mr. Cabell returned occupied a room in the quarters we have for our own employees."
"Was Miss Austin ailing any way?" asked Hatch. "I saw a large number of medicine bottles upstairs."