"You trifle with the power of the press," said the tall one. "Wait till to-morrow morning and you will see what happens to your remarks. The public will have reason to understand that we have reason to understand that Mr. Hilton has reason to understand that Mr. Clyde is not a thousand miles distant from Saintsbury at this time!"
While I had been speaking, my eye had fallen upon the stub of a cigar on the mantel. Now, I had not been in my room since morning,--and I do not smoke before luncheon. While I talked nonsense to the men, my mind was engaged with that cigar stub. I had no reason to suppose that the chambermaids on that floor smoked, and nobody else was supposed to have access to my rooms. I sauntered across the room and picked up the stub and tossed it in the grate. It was fresh and moist. My eye went about the room. Half a dozen books from my shelves were lying about,--and it was absurd to suppose that the chambermaids had been indulging in my favorite brands of literature.
"Let me offer you a cigar, gentlemen," I said, and went to the adjoining bedroom, closing the door behind me. My cigars were not in the bedroom, but the excuse served.
There, with his feet on my best embroidered cushions, with my choicest edition de luxe on his knees and a grin on his face, sat Clyde.
[CHAPTER XV]
THE OUTLAW
I shook my head at Clyde, and returned to the sitting room. "Have you seen Clyde since the news came out, Mr. Hilton?" the energetic reporter demanded, as I was passing the cigars around.
"I have been out of town. I only returned last evening."
"It seems that he left his office without any instructions, and nobody knows how to get his orders. And at his home nothing is known. He simply walked out of the door and disappeared."
"Then the chances are that he is far enough away by this time."