The most of them, however, had made no plans to get away. Heat being supplied again, the promise of lights as usual, and a reorganization of the working force of the house, satisfied most of them that matters would soon take their usual course. John Ryder hoped that this was to be the fact. He had done all--and more--than he desired to do for the welfare and comfort of the company. And he certainly would not have assumed this last responsibility regarding the coal supply had not Ruth expressed a desire to remain here for the rest of their honeymoon. Jim Howe, the clerk's assistant, was at the desk, and he spoke to Ryder as soon as the latter came near. "I say, sir, you're Mr. Ryder, aren't you? Well, there are two ladies been after you this morning, they want to see you." "Two ladies?" "Yes," and Howe had hard work to suppress a grin. "One's our house detective, Miss Solomons. You had a run-in with her last night?" "Something like that," returned Ryder. "The lady with the craze for five-cent detective fiction. She's carrying one of those novels around now--'The Great Limburger Cheese Mystery, or Dick Squawker on a Strong Scent'; you know the kind. I used to read 'em when I was a kid. But she is after you." "Humph!" observed Ryder not at all pleased. "And the lady in Suite Three," added Jim Howe, now flashing the guest a sharp look. "She's asking for you. Al sent up her breakfast and then she telephoned down here to ask if her--ahem!--her husband was about." "Well?" "I did not know just who she meant at first," acknowledged Howe, still eying Ryder curiously. "She--she did not get your name right." The business man felt himself flushing. But he braved it out. "Asked for her husband, didn't she?" "Er--yes." "Well, that's me," and he moved away from the desk. But he was suddenly impressed by the fact that Ruth must have said or done something to stir up suspicion at the hotel desk. With Mrs. Judson peddling her misinformation through the house, he and his bride were likely to be misunderstood. What could it be? Did Ruth mispronounce his name? The puzzle of it enfolded him in a blanket of doubt. He went upstairs muttering to himself and with clouded brow. As he approached Parlor A he saw a familiar figure standing at the door. It was White--the man who had been so suddenly and strangely taken ill in the office during the night. The man was speaking to one of the boys, and Ryder saw him give the messenger a card and a coin. "Yes; Suite Three. Give it to the lady and tell her I am waiting for her here." White went quickly into the parlor and the boy darted away. Ryder was dumbfounded. He was fixed to his place in the corridor for some moments before he could move. White, the man of mystery, had sent his card to his, Ryder's, wife! He expected Ruth to come to the parlor at his summons!