It seemed a curious thing for a cardroom waiter to do. On the fourth floor of the building were quite a number of private rooms, which were reserved by members who wished to have a place where they could spend a night, or where they could change into evening dress--or out of it--without the trouble of going home. One of these rooms--it was number twenty-five--was rented by Jackson Frost. Reaching this fourth floor, Max did another curious thing--an extremely curious thing for a cardroom waiter to do. Approaching the door of Frost’s room, he drew a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket, selected one of them, and opened the door. Having gained access to the room, he darted across to the window, opened it an inch or two from the bottom, then hastily retreated, locking the door behind him and hurrying back downstairs. Halfway down the last flight of stairs, he met Jackson Frost. Max humbly stepped aside to allow Frost to pass, and then went on to the bar, secured the drinks which had been ordered, and took them to the cardroom. Atherton was still there, but two or three minutes later he rose to his feet, nodded to the two other members, and left the room. “He’s going up to Frost’s room,” thought the waiter. He glanced impatiently at his watch. It was five minutes to seven. In five minutes he would be off duty. “Confound it!” he exclaimed inwardly. “Why couldn’t Atherton have waited that long? However, I don’t suppose he and Frost will finish their talk in five minutes. All the same, I hope Sachs won’t be late to-night.” Sachs was the name of the waiter who was to relieve Max at seven o’clock. He was very punctual as a rule, and this was no exception. Just as the clock was striking seven, he appeared at the cardroom door. “Anything new, Max?” he asked. “Nothing,” Max answered shortly. “Good night.” “What’s your rush?” asked Sachs, with a grin. “You seem to be in a tearing hurry.” “I am,” was the answer, and without another word Max left the room. If he was in such a desperate hurry to be off, though, one would have expected him to go straight down to the waiters’ room, change his clothes, and leave the premises, but, instead of doing this, he repeated most of his curious performances of a few minutes earlier. That is to say, he dawdled up the first flight of stairs, and then, as soon as he was out of sight of those in the entrance hall, he darted up to the fourth floor. With catlike steps he glided to the door of room No. 25, and stood for a moment in a listening attitude. A murmur of voices inside the room told him that Atherton and Frost were there. He could not hear what they were saying, but he had anticipated that, and that was why he had opened the window of Frost’s room. Having satisfied himself of the whereabouts of the two, he stole to the door of number twenty-seven, adjoining, picked the lock, glided into the room, and closed the door behind him.