"You mean somebody thinks my son took the pocketbook?" asked he indignantly, as he confronted the clerk and his companion.
"It is not my affair, sir, and I am sorry it should happen in our hotel," apologized the clerk. "Perhaps if you will just explain the whole matter to this gentleman—" he broke off, saying in an undertone to the man at his elbow. "This is your boy, Donovan."
The tall man came nearer.
"You are a detective?" asked Mr. Tolman bluntly.
"Well, something of the sort, sir," admitted the man called Donovan. "It is occasionally my business to hunt people up."
"And you have been sent to hunt my son up?"
Donovan nodded.
Stephen turned white and his father put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"My son and I," he replied, addressing the detective quietly, "can explain this entire affair to you and will do so gladly. The boy did find the pocketbook but he was ignorant of its value because he has not even looked inside it. In fact, that he had the article in his possession did not come into his mind until a few moments ago. If he had known the thing was valuable, do you suppose he would have left it in his ulster pocket and checked the coat in a public place like this?"
The detective made no reply.