"Oh, I handed it to him--and don't you try to run any bluff on me!" the boy answered. "From the way the boss acted, I guess you don't stand very high with him!" The boy went back to his chair, and Sidney Prale went from the office, a puzzled and angry man. There probably was some mistake, he told himself. He'd meet Griffin during the day and tell him about the adventure. He was anxious to meet some of the men with whom he had worked ten years before, but he did not know where to find them. He'd have to wait and ask Griffin what had become of them. Then, too, he wanted to transfer his funds. Prale got another taxicab and started making the rounds of the banks he knew to be solid institutions. Within a few hours he had made arrangements to transfer the account, using four financial institutions. He said nothing, except that the money had been transferred to the trust company from Honduras, because the company had a correspondent there. His funds secure, Prale went back uptown and to the hotel. The clerk handed him a note with his key. Prale tore it open after he stepped into the elevator. This time it was a sheet of paper upon which a message had been typewritten. "You can't dodge the law of compensation. For what you have done, you must pay." Sidney Prale gasped when he read that message, and went back to the ground floor. "Who left this note for me?" he demanded of the clerk. "Messenger boy." "You don't know where he came from?" "No, sir." Prale turned away and started for the elevator again. A bell hop stopped him. "Manager would like to see you in his office, sir," the boy said. "This way, sir." Prale followed the boy, wondering what was coming now. He found the manager to be a sort of austere individual who seemed impressed with his own importance. "Mr. Prale," he said, "I regret to have to say this, but I find that it cannot be avoided. When you arrived yesterday, the clerk assigned you to a suite on the fifth floor. He made a mistake. We had a telegraphic reservation for that suite from an old guest of ours, and it should have been kept for him. You appreciate the situation, I feel sure." "No objection to being moved," Prale said. "I have unpacked scarcely any of my things." "But--again I regret it--there isn't a vacant suite in the house, Mr. Prale." "A room, then, until you have one." "We haven't a room. We haven't as much as a cot, Mr. Prale. We cannot take care of you, I'm afraid. So many regular guests, you understand, and out-of-town visitors." "Then I'll have to move, I suppose. You may have the suite within two hours." "Thank you, Mr. Prale."