Montague stood for a moment, wondering; then he followed.  Bates went to a corner of the room and seated himself.  Montague joined him.

The reporter darted a quick glance about, then began hastily:  “Excuse me, Mr. Montague, I didn’t want anyone to see us talking.  I want to ask you to do me a favour.”

“What is it?”

“I’m running down a story.  It is something very important.  I can’t explain it to you now, but I want to get a certain room in this hotel.  You have an opportunity to do me the service of a lifetime.  I’ll explain it to you as soon as we are alone.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Montague.

“I want to rent room four hundred and seven,” said Bates.  “If I can’t get four hundred and seven, I want five hundred and seven, or six hundred and seven.  I daren’t ask for it myself, because the clerk knows me.  But he’ll let you have it.”

“But how shall I ask for it?” said Montague.

“Just ask,” said Bates; “it will be all right.”

Montague looked at him.  He could see that his friend was labouring under great excitement.

“Please! please!” he whispered, putting his hand on Montague’s arm.  And Montague said, “All right.”

He got up and strolled into the lobby again, and went to the desk.

“Good evening, Mr. Montague,” said the clerk.  “Mr. Harvey hasn’t returned.”

“I know it,” said Montague.  “I would like to get a room for the evening.  I would like to be near a friend.  Could I get a room on the fourth floor?”

“Fourth?” said the clerk, and turned to look at his schedule on the wall.  “Whereabouts—­front or back?”

“Have you four hundred and five?” asked Montague.

“Four hundred and five?  No, that’s rented.  We have four hundred and one—­four hundred and six, on the other side of the hall—­four hundred and seven—­”

“I’ll take four hundred and seven,” said Montague.

“Four dollars a day,” said the clerk, as he took down the key.

Not having any baggage, Montague paid in advance, and followed the boy to the elevator.  Bates followed him, and another man, a little wiry chap, carrying a dress-suit case, also entered with them, and got out at the fourth floor.

The boy opened the door, and the three men entered the room.  The boy turned on the light, and proceeded to lower the shades and the windows, and to do enough fixing to earn his tip.  Then he went out, closing the door behind him; and Bates sank upon the bed and put his hands to his forehead and gasped, “Oh, my God.”

The young man who accompanied him had set down his suit-case, and he now sat down on one of the chairs, and proceeded to lean back and laugh hilariously.

Montague stood staring from one to the other.

“My God, my God!” said Bates, again.  “I hope I may never go through with a job like this—–­I believe my hair will be grey before morning!”