"Yes. The young chap said, 'Hotel Tacoma.'"
Thanking the gentleman for his information, the Lieutenant hurried away, boarded an up-town trolley-car, and a few minutes later stood in the office of the great hotel scanning its register. A single glance was sufficient, for the last two names on the page, so recently entered that the ink was hardly dry, assured him that his search was successful. They were both in the same handwriting, and read: Philip Ryder, Alaska. Jalap Coombs. Alaska. "Pretty smart dodge," chuckled the Lieutenant, as he walked away, "to hail from such an indefinite place as Alaska. This Philip Ryder is certainly a sharp chap. It is plain enough now that he left that bag in the Siwash camp as a blind to throw us off the track."
The Lieutenant then hurried back toward the cutter, to make report of what he had discovered to his superior officer. After listening to all he had to say, that gentleman decided to continue the investigation himself; and an hour later he, with his third Lieutenant, both out of uniform, appeared at the hotel, with a sailor bearing a canvas bag.
Going into one of the small writing-rooms, which happened to be unoccupied, the Commander wrote a name on a plain card and sent it up to Mr. Philip Ryder, with a request that the gentleman would consent to see him on a matter of business. Then, with the canvas bag on the floor beside him, he waited alone.
Inside of three minutes a bell-boy ushered into the room a well-dressed, squarely built youth, with a resolute face and blue eyes that looked straight into the Commander's.
"Mr. Ellery, I believe," he said, glancing at the card still held in his hand.
The Commander bowed slightly, and then asked, "Is your name Philip Ryder?"
"It is."
"Is this your property?" Here the Commander indicated the canvas bag.
The youth stepped forward to get a better view of the article, in question, started as though surprised, and then answered, "Yes, sir, I believe it is; but I must confess to great curiosity as to how it came here."