With that Carl got up disgustedly and left the hotel office.
"How do you account for that, mate?" asked Dick.
"The messages got into the wrong envelopes," answered Matt. "Mr. James Sixty must be staying in this hotel. He's got my message and I've got his. That means we've got to find each other and exchange. Come on, Dick. We'll go over and talk with the clerk."
When they got to the desk they found a hulk of a man with a very red face talking with the night man in the office. The red-faced man seemed very much put out about something. He had a voice like a fog horn, and he was using it with a good deal of power. As Matt and Dick approached the desk the clerk suddenly put out his hand and stopped the flow of language.
"There's Motor Matt now," said he. "Here, Matt!" he called. "Have you got a telegram that don't belong to you? There's been a mix-up in messages, somehow, for Captain Sixty, here, has got one you ought to have. He was just asking me where you could be found."
"I was just coming to ask you about Captain Sixty," said Matt, holding out the message.
Sixty turned and snatched the message away.
"D'you read it?" he roared.
"Couldn't very well help it, captain," answered Matt. "If you'll look at the envelope you'll see it's addressed to me."
"I like some people's nerve," scowled the captain. "Here's your'n."