Jack stepped forward. "I know that my sister would not give us one moment's anxiety were it in her power to avoid it," he said. "She is the most thoughtful girl in the world."
The manager was looking at the envelope Ed held. "Who did you say told you about this?" he asked of Ed.
"A waiter."
"Just come along with me, and we will see the waiters and kitchen men before we disturb the guests," said the manager.
They passed through the halls, where knots of the guests were strolling about passing the time between the dances—all apparently happy and contented. But Jack and Ed! What would be the outcome of their anxiety?
"This way," said the hotel proprietor. "Let me see, you are——" he paused suggestively.
"My name is Foster, and this is Mr. Kimball," said Ed.
In the kitchen they found everything in confusion. The chef had lined up every man in the department, and he was questioning them.
"What's this?" asked Mr. Blake, the proprietor.
"Some one has been in here, or some one here has made away with a lot of the silver and with money from the men's pockets," replied the chef indignantly. "We have got to find out who is the culprit. I won't stand for that sort of thing."