"Vell, Matt ditn't shleep in der ped, und dot means he ditn't shday in der room. I vant to ask der nighdt clerk oof he vent oudt."
The night clerk answered their summons in a sleepy voice and opened the door.
"Dit you see Modor Matt leaf der hodel lasdt nighdt?" asked Carl.
"Yes," was the astonishing reply, "he went out about midnight and took his grip with him. Looked like he was going away."
"For vy shouldt he go avay?" gasped Carl. "He vas in der race, und he vouldn't leaf town on a bet, schust now."
"I thought it was mighty funny," said the clerk. "He didn't say a word about paying his bill, or where he was going, or anything else. I called to him and asked if he was going to make a trip somewhere, and he turned around and stared at me. He didn't seem to know what he was doing. He never said a word, but went on out."
"Ach, himmelblitzen!" muttered Carl, rubbing a dazed hand over his eyes. "Vouldn't dot knock you shlap-sitet? Vent avay! Modor Matt vent avay und nefer say nodding mit me aboudt it! Dere iss something wrong, you ped you!"
"I didn't know whether I ought to tell you or not, Carl," went on the clerk. "These racing folks are coming and going all the time, and, for the most part, they're a queer lot. Motor Matt, somehow, seemed different, but last night I hadn't a notion what was bothering him and I didn't want to pry into his business. Supposed he knew what he was up to. Why don't you go and see Trueman? He may be able to tell you something."
"Who's Trueman?" asked Chub.
"He iss der feller Matt iss triving der car for in der race," replied Carl. "Meppy ve pedder go und shbeak mit him."