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DETECTIVE BARNEY

the dining-room where he had seen his hope. If it had only been Palmer! If they had only landed that bite!

Babbing joined him there. “He did n’t get him,” Barney reported. Babbing nodded. They went to their seats on the sofa. “He ’ll be back,” Babbing said. “He has n’t given up his room.”

Barney sighed. “I thought we had him.”

“How so?”

“A man in the dinin’ room stopped that bell-hop an’ then turned him down.”

Babbing rose at once. “That ’s our man.”

“But he turned him down.”

“Come on. Show me where he is. You ’re asleep.” They were crossing the lobby, and Babbing was talking in a low, indifferent, chatty tone. “His name is n’t Sullivan. As soon as he learned that the boy had a telephone call, he knew it could n’t be for him. None of his friends in town would call for him by that name. Is there an empty table near him?”