A solitary, worn-out hotel ’bus was backed up against the station platform.
Vance, grip in hand, was stepping over to take it, when it suddenly struck him that perhaps he had better not go to the hotel.
If he could obtain accommodation at some house in the suburbs his presence in the place would probably attract less attention.
There might be nothing in it after all, but he proposed to omit no precaution having a bearing on his secret mission.
So he asked a husky looking boy he noticed standing around if he knew of any place in the vicinity where he could find board and lodging for a few days.
“I’ll show you a place, mister.”
The country boy took him around to an unpretentious cottage, where he secured what he wanted at very reasonable terms.
Feeling that some excuse was in order, he explained to the elderly spinster who owned the house that he thought Elevatorville might improve his health.
“You don’t look a bit sick,” she ventured, looking him over with critical consideration.
“That’s right, madam; but you can’t always tell by appearances,” replied Vance with a politeness that quite charmed her.