Joe the Hotel Boy

HOW A SATCHEL DISAPPEARED.

“They certainly mean mischief,” Joe told himself, after the two men had vanished.  He saw them enter an elevator, but did not know at what floor they alighted.

Looking over the hotel register he was unable to find the names of either Caven or Malone, or even Ball.  Evidently the rascals were traveling under other names now.

“They’ll bear watching,” he concluded.  “I must put Mr. Vane on guard as soon as he comes in.”

He gave up the idea of leaving a note and took his station in the corridor of the hotel.  After waiting about two hours he saw a well-known form approaching, dress-suit case in hand.

“Mr. Vane!”

“Oh, Joe, so you’re here already!  I’m glad I won’t have to wait for you.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to get a room, Mr. Vane.  But you can have mine.”

“I telegraphed ahead for a room, Joe.”

“Do you know that your enemies are here?” went on our hero.

“My enemies?”

“Gaff Caven and Pat Malone.  But they are traveling under other names.”

“Have they seen you?”

“I think not, sir.”

Mr. Vane soon had his room assigned to him and he and our hero passed up in the elevator.  As soon as they were in the apartment by themselves, Joe related what he had seen and heard.

“They are certainly on my trail,” mused Maurice Vane.  “And they must have kept pretty close or they wouldn’t know that I had asked you to accompany me.”

“They have some plot, Mr. Vane.”

“Have you any idea what it is?”

“No, sir, excepting that they are going to try to do you out of your interest in that mine.”

Maurice Vane and Joe talked the matter over for an hour, but without satisfaction.  Then they went to the dining room for something to eat.

“We start for Montana in the morning,” said the gentleman.  “I think the quicker I get on the ground the better it will be for me.”

Although Maurice Vane and Joe did not know it, both were shadowed by Caven and Malone.  The two rascals had disguised themselves by donning false beards and putting on spectacles.

“They leave in the morning,” said Caven.  “Malone, we must get tickets for the same train, and, if possible, the same sleeping car.”

“It’s dangerous work,” grumbled Pat Malone.

“If you want to back out, say so, and I’ll go it alone.”

“I don’t want to back out.  But we must be careful.”

“I’ll be careful, don’t fear,” answered the leader of the evil pair.

At the ticket office of the hotel, Maurice Vane procured the necessary tickets and sleeper accommodations to the town of Golden Pass, Idaho.  He did not notice that he was watched.  A moment later Gaff Caven stepped up to the desk.

“I want a couple of tickets to Golden Pass, too,” he said, carelessly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me see, what sleeper did that other gentleman take?”

“Number 2, sir—­berths 7 and 8.”

“Then give me 9 and 10 or 5 and 6,” went on Caven.

“9 and 10—­here you are, sir,” said the clerk, and made out the berth checks.  Without delay Caven hurried away, followed by Malone.

“We’ll be in the sleeping compartment right next to that used by Vane and the boy,” chuckled Gaff Caven.  “Pat, it ought to be dead easy.”

“Have you the chloroform?”

“Yes, twice as much as we’ll need.”

“When can we leave the train?”

“At three o’clock, at a town called Snapwood.  We can get another train two hours later,—­on the northern route.”

All unconscious of being watched so closely, Maurice Vane and Joe rode to the depot and boarded the train when it came along.  Joe had been looking for Caven and Malone, but without success.

“I cannot see those men anywhere,” he said.

“They are probably in hiding,” said his employer.

The train was only half full and for the time being Caven and Malone kept themselves either in the smoking compartment or in the dining car.  It was dark when they took their seats, and soon the porter came through to make up the berths for the night.

“I must confess I am rather sleepy,” said Maurice Vane.

“So am I,” returned our hero.  “I am sure I can sleep like a top, no matter how much the car shakes.”

“Then both of us may as well go to bed at once.”

So it was arranged, and they had the porter put up their berths a few minutes later.  Maurice Vane took the lower resting place while our hero climbed to the top.

Although very tired it was some time before Joe could get to sleep.  He heard Maurice Vane breathing heavily and knew that his employer must be fast in the land of dreams.

When Joe awoke it was with a peculiar, dizzy feeling in his head.

His eyes pained him not a little and for several minutes he could not remember where he was.  Then came a faint recollection of having tried to arise during the night but of being held down.

“I must have been dreaming,” he thought.  “But it was exactly as if somebody was keeping me down and holding something over my mouth and nose.”

He stretched himself and then pushed aside the berth curtain and gazed out into the aisle of the car.  The porter was already at work, turning some of the berths into seats once more.  Joe saw that it was daylight and consulted the nickel watch he carried.

“Eight o’clock!” he exclaimed.  “I’ve overslept myself sure!  Mr. Vane must be up long ago.”

He slipped into his clothing and then knocked on the lower berth.

He heard a deep sigh.

“Mr. Vane!”

“Eh?  Oh, Joe, is that you?  What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“What!” Maurice Vane started up.  “I’ve certainly slept fast enough this trip.  Are you getting hungry waiting for me?”

“I just woke up myself.”

“Oh!” Maurice Vane stretched himself.  “My, how dizzy I am.”

“I am dizzy too, sir.  It must be from the motion of the car.”

“Probably, although I rarely feel so, and I ride a great deal.  I feel rather sick at my stomach, too,” went on the gentleman, as he began to dress.

Joe had just started to go to the lavatory to wash up when he heard his employer utter an exclamation.

“Joe!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Did you see anything of my satchel?”

“You took it into the berth with you.”

“I don’t see it.”

“It must be somewhere around.  I saw it when you went to bed.”

“Yes, I put it under my pillow.”

Both made a hasty search, but the satchel could not be found.  The dress-suit case stood under the seat and Joe’s was beside it.

“This is strange.  Can I have been robbed?”

“Was there much in that satchel, Mr. Vane?”

“Yes, those mining shares and some other articles of value.”

“Then we must find the satchel by all means.”

“I’ll question the porter about this.”

The colored man was called and questioned, but he denied having seen the bag.  By this time quite a few passengers became interested.

“Has anybody left this car?” asked Maurice Vane.

“The gen’men that occupied Numbers 9 and 10, sah,” said the porter.

“When did they get off?”

“’Bout three o’clock, sah—­when de train stopped at Snapwood.”

“I haven’t any tickets for Snapwood,” said the conductor, who had appeared on the scene.

“Then they must have had tickets for some other point,” said Joe.

“That looks black for them.”

The porter was asked to describe the two men and did so, to the best of his ability.  Then another search was made, and in a corner, under a seat, a bottle was found, half filled with chloroform.

“It’s as plain as day to me,” said Maurice Vane.  “Joe, I was chloroformed.”

“Perhaps I was, too.  That’s what gave us the dizzy feeling.”

“And those two men—­”

“Must have been Caven and Malone in disguise,” finished our hero.