"What do you say to the Windsor Hotel?"
"Isn't that rash? Don't the detective know you?"
"He can't be everywhere, the worthy man. Your friend Clarence knows what he is about. You won't interfere with me?"
"Of course not."
In spite of this assurance Mortimer made it in his way to drop into the Windsor Hotel later in the evening, but of course he did not see Clarence Clayton, who had put him on the wrong scent.
A good dinner was not the end of Clayton's extravagance. He dropped into the Star Theatre, and enjoyed an attractive play, though it cost him a dollar.
"Josiah Onthank will pay for it, I hope," he said, for he had ascertained from the hotel register the name of his Orange County friend. "It will cost something," he laughed, "to get his son into my office in Wall Street. Oh, Clarence, you're a sly one, you are!"
Rupert was free from his duties at seven o'clock, but, remembering the commission he had received, he sought out the farmer and opened a conversation with him.
"How do you like New York?" he asked.