"Take your choice," said O'Rourke, "but tell me what you make of the address." "Boston," cried the clerk. They stared at him. "You were all ready," said Hemming. "Yes, sir," he replied, "for I've been thinking it over for some time." "Why the devil didn't you ask him?" inquired O'Rourke, fretfully. "Lookee here, colonel," said the hotel man, "if you know Mr. Hudson, you know darn well why I didn't ask him where he came from." "High and haughty?" queried O'Rourke. The clerk nodded. "You had better reconsider your course, old chap," laughed the Englishman. His friend did not reply. He was again intent on the register. "I make seven letters in it," he said, "and I'll swear to that for an N." "N nothing," remarked the clerk; "that's a B." "Yes, it is a B, I think, and to me the word looks like--well, like Balloon," said Hemming. O'Rourke sighed. "Of course it is New York; see the break in the middle, and a man is more likely to come from there than from a balloon," he said. "Some men go away in balloons, sir," suggested the clerk. Just then the proprietor of the hotel entered and approached the desk. He Was an imposing figure of a man, tall and deep, and suitably dressed in the roomiest of light tweeds. His face was round and clever. He shook hands with the new arrivals. "Military men, I believe," he said. "Not just now," replied Hemming. "Do you know where Mr. Hudson is at present?" asked O'Rourke, in casual tones. "Mr. Hudson, of Philadelphia? Why, no, sir, I can't say that I do," answered the big man. "How do you know he's of Philadelphia?" asked the Englishman. "He wrote it in the register; look for yourself," was the reply. "No," said O'Rourke, mournfully, "but it is a very dry evening, and if you will honour us with your company as far as the bar, Mr.--" "Stillman,--delighted, sir," hastily replied the proprietor. The three straightway sought that cool retreat, leaving the clerk to brood, with wrinkled brow, above the puzzle so unconsciously donated to him by a respectable one-time guest.