“Go ahead,” nodded Patsy.
It required, as Vernon had said, only a few minutes to learn who had been permanent guests in the hotel since the middle of August. The list was not a long one. It contained only four names, in fact, though thousands of transients had been coming and going during the same interval.
“Permanent guests did not begin to flock in, you see, until the end of the summer season,” Vernon explained.
“So much the better,” said Patsy. “This simplifies the matter. Two of these guests are women. What do you know about them?”
“Both are wealthy widows,” said Vernon. “One is seventy years old, and she has only a maid companion. The other has two daughters, who occupy the same suite with her. Her rooms are on the ninth floor.”
“Any man living with either of them?”
“No.”
“I can safely drop them then, all right,” thought Patsy. “What about this man Hanaford, of London?”
“He is an American representative of several big English woolen mills,” said Vernon. “I have known him for a long time. He is about sixty years old and is a man of unquestionable integrity.”
“What about the last, then?” questioned Patsy, assured as to the English agent. “By Jove, he’s the man the chief saw in Mademoiselle Falloni’s suite this morning—Doctor David Guelpa.”