But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who, in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner. "What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the bell boy. "Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent medicines," replied the boy. "What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out." "I did, but he won't go." "Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine." "We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly. "I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute." The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame. "Who's your friend?" asked the clerk. "Mr. Mortimer De Royster." "Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?" The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise. "That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think--" Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk. "Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!" "Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?" "Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well." "Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room--er--ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time. Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there. "What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place. "Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not." "Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.