Just then some one knocked on the door; and, not wishing to disturb Bissell, he quietly arose, crossed the room, and opened the door.
The caller was one of those society fiends yclept a reporter.
"Hello, officer!" he exclaimed, briskly; "I understand there's been something of a row up here. Let's know the merits of the case."
"I don't know them myself," returned Crowley, evasively, at the same time slipping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him.
"Oh, pshaw!" urged the reporter, "you must know something about it. Tell me what you do know."
"What little I know isn't worth telling. Just wait till Old Spicer and Killett come up, then you can question them all you've a mind to—if they'll let you."
"What! is Old Spicer in this hotel?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"Down in the office, I believe."