A boy answered the ring of the bell which the clerk touched, and, taking Ned's grip led the way. A rattling, shaking elevator, of an antiquated type, carried Ned and his guide to the fifth floor. The young porter opened the door of a small room and set Ned's grip down inside of it. "Here's where you bunk," he remarked. Ned had read of the necessity for tips in New York, and handed the boy a dime. The lad seemed to welcome it. "T'anks," he said. "What's that rope for?" asked Ned, as he noticed one in a corner of his room. "Fire escape. New law. All rooms has to have 'em," the boy replied. "If the shebang goes up you drop the rope out of the window and slide down. Your window's right over the back yard and there's a gate that leads out into a side street." "Do they have many fires?" asked Ned, feeling a bit nervous. "Many? Every day ten or a dozen." "I mean around here?" "Ain't had none since I worked here, but when this place goes it'll go quick. It's about a thousand years old, I guess." When the boy had gone Ned looked out of the window. It overlooked the rear yard of the hotel, a place filled with boxes, barrels and all sorts of rubbish. The rope was fastened to an iron ring in the wall, and looked stout enough to hold several men. It was long enough to reach to the ground, as Ned could see. "Hope I don't have to use it," he thought. Leaving his valise in his room, Ned went downstairs, again, the old elevator taking considerable time on the trip. "I'll look around a bit, have some supper and then go to bed," he decided. "Maybe my luck will change to-morrow." Ned after walking about the streets for awhile went back to the same restaurant where he had dined before, as he did not fancy the looks of his hotel well enough to eat there. He strolled about through the brilliantly lighted streets after supper pondering on his curious plight, and then went back to the Imperial. As he approached the desk to get to the elevator he saw a stout man in close conversation with the clerk. He could hear the latter, in reply to some question, say: "Guess we haven't got anybody here you want, Jim. No new ones came except a kid. Queer thing about him, though, I believe he's registered under the wrong name. Acts sort of funny." "What name did he give?" asked the stout man. "'Never'--'ever'--no, that isn't it but it's something like that. 'Seldom'--that's it--no it isn't either--'Seldon,' that's it. 'Thomas Seldon.' I sized him up for a queer one." "I'll have to get a look at him," the stout man went on. "I don't know as we have any call for him, but it's best to be on the safe side." Ned felt his knees beginning to shake. He wondered who the big man might be. Just then the youthful porter sauntered toward him. Ned had come to a halt half way up the lobby of the hotel.