I shook my head at Clyde, and returned to the sitting room. "Have you seen Clyde since the news came out, Mr. Hilton?" the energetic reporter demanded, as I was passing the cigars around.

"I have been out of town. I only returned last evening."

"It seems that he left his office without any instructions, and nobody knows how to get his orders. And at his home nothing is known. He simply walked out of the door and disappeared."

"Then the chances are that he is far enough away by this time."

"But he\'ll be caught," the man said confidently. "It is one of the hardest things in the world for a man to be lost in this world of rapid communication. His description has been wired all over the country. The police in every city in the land will have their eyes open. Sooner or later--and the chances are that it will be sooner--some one will tap him on the shoulder and say, \'You\'re wanted, Mr. Clyde.\' And he\'ll forget himself and answer to the name. They all do it. Sooner or later."

He wagged his head wisely.

"That\'s so," chimed in the others, and story after story was told of the unconscious way in which men in hiding would betray themselves. It was entertaining enough, but I was on needles to have them go, and I got rid of them as soon as I could. I waited until I saw them actually leave the building before I dared let Clyde out of the bedroom. He came out smiling and undisturbed.

"Are your prophetic friends safely out of the way?" he asked.

"All gone. How in the name of mystery did you get in here?"

"You look more surprised than hospitable!"

"And more anxious than either, I dare say, if my looks show my feelings. How are you going to get away?"

"Walk away. And very soon. But first, I wonder if you could get me something to eat. Absurd how dependent we civilized beings are on our meals! There may be more serious matters to be considered, but at present my chief anxiety is as to whether you happen to have a box of crackers and a piece of cheese in your rooms."

"We\'ll do better than that," I answered, and I promptly telephoned to a near-by restaurant for a substantial meal.

"Now, while we are waiting, tell me how you got in," I said.

"Oh, that was easy. I simply walked up. I thought I should find you, but you are an abominably early riser. The maids were cleaning the rooms, and so I simply watched for an opportunity to slip into one room while they were in the other. You have comfortable diggings here, and I commend your taste in pictures, but I vow I never saw so hungry a place in my life."

"Have you really had nothing all day?"

"Nothing since yesterday noon. It was about the middle of the afternoon yesterday that a fellow came to my office,--a man I had never seen. He told me that he was a typesetter on the Samovar. \'Beg pardon,\' he said, \'but you\'re Mr. Clyde, aren\'t you?\' I acknowledged it. He said, \'I\'m a machine operator on the Samovar, and I had a "take" just now that had a story about you in it. Some dirty story about your having been convicted of murder and escaping before you were hung.\' \'Indeed?\' I said. \'It was kind of you to warn me. To whom am I indebted?\' He looked down and shuffled his feet. \'Oh, I\'m nothing but a machine operator, but I don\'t want to see a man that is bucking the ring knifed.\' And that is all that I know about him."

"Some local politician, probably."

"Yes," he laughed. "It is a queer world, the way we are bound up with each other. If I hadn\'t accepted that nomination on the Citizens\' ticket, that bow-legged little machine man, who probably had to lose a day\'s wage to get away and warn me, would never have bothered. He took the trouble because I was his candidate."

"By the way, I saw Miss Thurston to-day. She gave me this letter to get to you if I should have a chance." And I gave him her letter and turned away to arrange his supper while he should read it. I rather fancy he forgot his hunger for a few minutes. I could guess something of what Miss Thurston must have written by his fac............