He got up and strolled into the lobby again, and went to the desk.
“Good evening, Mr. Montague,” said the clerk. “Mr. Harvey hasn't returned.”
“I know it,” said Montague. “I would like to get a room for the evening. I would like to be near a friend. Could I get a room on the fourth floor?”
“Fourth?” said the clerk, and turned to look at his schedule on the wall. “Whereabouts—front or back?”
“Have you four hundred and five?” asked Montague.
“Four hundred and five? No, that's rented. We have four hundred and one—four hundred and six, on the other side of the hall—four hundred and seven—”
“I'll take four hundred and seven,” said Montague.
“Four dollars a day,” said the clerk, as he took down the key.
Not having any baggage, Montague paid in advance, and followed the boy to the elevator. Bates followed him, and another man, a little wiry chap, carrying a dress-suit case, also entered with them, and got out at the fourth floor.
The boy opened the door, and the three men entered the room. The boy turned on the light, and proceeded to lower the shades and the windows, and to do enough fixing to earn his tip. Then he went out, closing the door behind him; and Bates sank upon the bed and put his hands to his forehead and gasped, “Oh, my God.”