"Well, never mind. Don't let it worry you."
The clerk, visibly distressed, in spite of Matt's reassuring words, went back into the office. As soon as he had vanished inside the hotel, the king of the motor boys gave vent to a low laugh.
McGlory peered at him.
"Pard!" he murmured, leaning over to drop a hand on Matt's knee. "Have you gone off the jump on account of that confounded ruby? It's a blow between the eyes, all right, but, for heaven's sake, don't let it get you locoed."
"Locoed!" and Matt pulled himself together, reached inside his vest and brought out a knotted handkerchief. Untying the knotted ends of the handkerchief, he opened it out on his knee. "See here, Joe!" said he; "that's how badly I am locoed."
What McGlory saw was the ruby, glowing redly against the white linen.
[CHAPTER X.]
THE MAN FROM THE "IRIS."
Not many times in McGlory's life had he been so tremendously at a loss for words as he was then. He stared at the ruby and he stared at Matt.