Jerry applied the brakes and the car slowed. "That must be it," he said, pointing across the street. It wasn't what Rick had expected. A tiny metal sign announced that this was the Garden View Hotel. It was set above a dingy doorway through which a flight of stairs could be seen. "Where's the garden it's supposed to have a view of?" Scotty wanted to know. Rick motioned in the general direction of uptown. "Probably Madison Square Garden. You could see it from here easily if there weren't about two thousand buildings in the way including the Empire State." He was wondering if they had the right place. "This calls for a small change in plans," he said. On the way to New York they had decided it would be easiest to give a bellhop a generous tip and have him locate Captain Killian for them. Bellhops usually knew about every guest in a small hotel, and they suspected the Garden View would be small simply because none of them had ever heard of it. "You're right," Scotty agreed. "A place like that wouldn't have a bellhop." Rick searched for an idea. "You wouldn't know his signature on the register, would you. Cap'n?" "Never seen him sign his name." "Why couldn't one of us be a relative looking for him?" Jerry offered. "Say, that's an idea!" Scotty exclaimed. "We could pretend he's a little cracked and describe him. The clerk would know who we meant, and he'd probably be glad to tell us, because hotels don't like having people who might be a little bit off." "Cap'n Mike could do it," Rick said. "Cap'n, couldn't you pretend to be his brother?" "Sure I could. Well, what are we waiting for? Do I go alone?" "I'll go with you," Rick offered. "Jerry and I had better wait, then," Scotty said. "It might look funny if four of us came trooping in like a chowder-and-marching club." Jerry spoke up. "That's okay, except don't forget I'm to talk with him if he has anything to say. Have to get an interview for the paper." "We'll bring him down," Rick promised confidently. "Let's go, Cap'n." The stairs leading up into the hotel were creaky with age, and the accumulation of dust and dirt showed months without a broom. At the top of the stairs was what had once been quite a nice lobby. But now the rug was worn to strings and the wallpaper had acquired a glaze of dirt that made it look like ancient newspapers. Behind the scarred ruin of an oak counter stood a clerk so fat Rick wondered how the floor could support him. He was reading a comic book, and he didn't even look up as they came in. Cap'n Mike addressed him politely. "Excuse me, sir. I wonder if you can help me?" Tired eyes looked up from the comic book. "What can I do for you?" The words and tone were surprisingly courteous.