"I'm with you!" exclaimed the lightkeeper, alighting with alacrity. "If they robbed the bank, why, dad fetch it! they got all my and Heppy's savings, too. I never did like that Degger."
He was right at Ralph's heels when the latter strode into the hotel office. A yawning clerk stopped in the middle of a mighty stretch, and, with mouth agape, stared at the visitors.
"Are Con Degger and Burtwell here?" demanded Ralph.
"Why—why——"
"Are they?"
"Yes. I just got 'em up. The cook's getting them some breakfast, for they are going out on the clam train."
"Where are their rooms?"
"Right upstairs. One flight. At the rear of the hall. Number eight."
This staccato information followed Ralph as he started up the stairs. Tobias lingered long enough to say to the clerk:
"They needn't hold the clam train for 'em this morning. And you tell the cook his breakfast won't likely be eat by them two scalawags unless he serves it to 'em in jail."