“Expect me to remember that?” Nevertheless, Mr. Pollock scratched his chin and considered the question. “Yes, seems to me I do recall such a party. Somebody said those knickerbockers were loud enough to be heard all the way to Boston.” The clerk thumbed the pages of the hotel register and presently pointed out a name. “That’s the fellow, Joseph Hastings. He comes from Cleveland, Ohio. There were four in his party.”
“And he came in a big red car, with a silver eagle on the radiator cap?” Ben persisted.
“Well, now, I can’t say as to that.” But Mr. Pollock, being a good-natured man and having nothing else to do at the moment, scratched his chin again, and again considered. “I do think of something. He told me he’d punctured a tire and asked me the best place to go to buy a new one.”
Ben nodded. “I suppose you told him Hammond’s?”
“You’re right. I did. Frank Hammond is a good friend of mine.”
Then Ben changed the conversation to the subject of the big league pennant race, in which the clerk was very much interested, and after some further chat, departed from the hotel.
Frank Hammond knew Ben also, and was not too busy that morning to exchange a few words with him. After a number of questions about the state of the roads in the neighborhood of Barmouth, Ben said, “Mr. Pollock tells me you sold a tire to Joseph Hastings, of Cleveland, Ohio, Tuesday of this week.”
“That’s so,” said Mr. Hammond, “I did. I sold him a couple of those big Vulcan tires for his rear wheels. Is he a friend of yours?”
“I don’t know him very well,” Ben evaded. “But I hear he’s a fine fellow. Is he touring along the coast?”
“No. He said he was staying at a place called the Gables, down on the Cape Ann Road. Wonderful car he’s got. He told me he’d had it built according to his own ideas.”