When Bernard was drawing his handkerchief out of his side pocket after supper, he twitched out the card, which fell to the floor.
Mr. McCracken’s sharp eye detected it.
“What is that?” he asked.
“A card.”
“Of course. What name is on it?”
“Alvin Franklin.”
“Who is he? Is it a man you know?”
“Yes, sir. It is an acquaintance of my father.”
“When did you see him?”
“To-day, at the St. Nicholas Hotel.”