"It is believed that Mr. Bangs will not pay wages beyond today, and the men and girls are deserting. Some went on that nine o'clock train, and others have found means of getting away from the hotel." "By thunder!" ejaculated Ryder. "Where's Bangs? We'll get what's left of the help together and make him assure them----" "I--I don't think Mr. Bangs is here," hesitated George. "What's that?" "I couldn't help his going, sir. I could not hold him by force, you know. You gentlemen should have had him watched." "What has he done?" asked Ryder, recovering his calmness. "Right after you gentlemen left I heard him telephoning to the railroad station. The operator and agent were not there, but the conductor of that combination was. He's a friend of Bangs'. The train was held ten minutes. It did not get away until ten minutes past nine. And I think Mr. Bangs went on it." "And his going has disorganized the whole household," the steward added, sadly. "The chef has the kitchen fairly under control now. He's an Italian--Vitalli is his name--not a bad fellow at all and attached to the house rather than to Bangs--as I am and George, here, is." "You believe the estate will do the right thing by you?" Ryder asked curiously. "Yes," said the steward. "The heirs will not wish the house closed. In such a way, too! They would consider it a disgrace. Pinewood Inn is one of the oldest hotels on the coast. This Mr. Giddings, the lawyer, doesn't know much about the hotel business, I fancy, or he would not have acted so precipitately and given Mr. Bangs a chance to put the guests out. If all the help would work together we'd come out all right. But most of them care nothing about the hotel or the welfare of its guests," and the steward wagged his head. "Where are the other clerks?" Ryder asked of George. "Mr. Manger, the head clerk, went to town day before yesterday. Somehow, I feel that he had some wind of what was coming. But heaven knows _I_ didn't, Mr. Ryder." "Or you would have gone, likewise?" asked the man of business, with a grim smile, but watching the ruddy young fellow with his plastered yellow hair in some curiosity. "Well--no," hesitated George. "I think I should have hung on in any case. You see," he added, "I'm rather fond of a scrap. And Jim Howe--he relieves me at midnight--_he'll_ see it through, no fear!" "Well, gentlemen," Ryder finally said with a sigh, "there doesn't seem to be much now that we can do save to sit tight. You two influence all the employees you can to stick by the ship. These lights and stoves and oil are already at the door, I have no doubt. You take charge of them all," he said to the steward, "and get somebody to fix up the lamps and fill them. But give none of them out until George, here, has listed them. He knows more about the guests and their needs than any of us, I presume."