"It's no use to inquire for him," decided Craig as we entered the
hotel. "I still have the key to that room, 827, next to his. We'll
ride right up in the elevator boldly and get in."
No one said anything to us, as we let ourselves into the room next
to Whitney's. A new lock had been placed on the door between the
suites, but, aside from the additional time it took to force it,
it presented no great difficulty.
"He wouldn't leave the dagger here, of course," remarked Kennedy,
as at last we stepped into Whitney's suite. "But we may as well
satisfy ourselves. Hello--what's this?"
The room was all upset, as though some one had already gone
through it. For a moment I thought we had been forestalled.
"Packed a grip hastily," Craig remarked, pointing to the marks on
the bedspread where it had rested while he must literally have
thrown things into it.
We made a hasty search ourselves, but we knew it was hopeless. Two
things we had learned. Whitney had had a visit from his
detectives, and he had gone away hurriedly. An anonymous telephone
message had been sent to Kennedy. Had it been for the purpose of
throwing us off the track?
The room telephone rang. Quickly Craig jumped to it and took down
the receiver.
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