"I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere—she's left."
"Left—gone from town?"
"Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, I reckon. Never sed no word to nobody—just naturally packed up her duds an' hiked."
Westcott drew a deep breath.
"Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She must have paid her bill."
"Oh, she was square enough—sure. She left money an' a note pinned to her pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home—want ter see whut she wrote?"
"You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?"
Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer. Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott snatched the paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastily pencilled lines:
Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the night train, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment.