"Ha! How do you know that? In the state of confusion the house is now in, some vandal might easily cut the canvas out of its frame. It cost me many thousands of dollars, sir--and it's the finest example of Van Scamp's art in existence today. I will not trust it unguarded in that parlor under present circumstances." "But I can't furnish a watchman to guard your picture," George urged. "Well, where's the house detective?" demanded the old gentleman. "I must have protection for my picture." "You certainly can't expect Miss Solomons to stand guard over it!" the clerk exclaimed. "You'd better have it removed to your room." "You clown!" exclaimed the crotchety old man. "It wouldn't go through the door of my room. That is why it has to be hung in your miserable parlor." And as the clerk restrained both his temper and his tongue, he added: "If you will not furnish a watchman--and Mr. Giddings shall hear of your refusal, sir!--then James will have to guard the picture." "Oh, no suh!" murmured the colored man. "Dat ain't no place fo' me all night. No, suh! Yo' might need me----" "You will have to do it, James," repeated the old man. "If the lights go out what is going to prevent that canvas being cut out of the frame?" "Das jest it, suh!" rejoined the colored man. "I don't want to stay dere in de dark--no, suh!" "You are a coward, James--a pusillanimous coward!" "Yes, suh! Dat may be, suh. But yo' might need me in de night." "Of course I shall need you. I'll likely have one of my choking spells--or something. But I can't risk losing my Van Scamp. We shall both have to watch it, James. We will camp in the parlor all night. "Young man," turning to George, "have a bed brought into the parlor for me. I will sleep there, and James shall keep watch." "But, Mr. Cudger, that is the main parlor of the hotel. We cannot very easily let you sleep there," cried the distracted George. At this point Ryder lost interest in the entire affair. The boy he had sent upstairs with the note to Ruth tugged at his sleeve. "I can't find the lady, sir," he said, returning the letter to Ryder. "Can't find who?" "Mrs. Ryder, sir." The man was amazed, and for an instant he was a little frightened. "Where did you go, boy?" he demanded. "To Suite Three--where you told me. She wasn't there." "How do you know she wasn't there?" "The lady told me so. The lady who was there. She told me I'd made a mistake." Ryder started for the staircase, his mind in a whirl. Where could Ruth have gone? Possibly to Mrs. Judson's apartment. Yet if so, who had met the boy and sent him away from Suite Three with such a message? CHAPTER VIII THE BRIDAL NIGHT