"I think he's up in his room, although I'm not sure. You see, I was out to a dance last night, and I'm pretty tired, and I fell asleep a couple of times sitting here doing nothing. Somehow or other, it seems to be an off night around this hotel. Nothing doing at all," and the sleepy clerk yawned again. "Maybe he's up in his room looking over those papers he brought," suggested Randy. "Come on up and see." All mounted the stairs to the third floor of the hotel. When they reached the room occupied by Dick Rover they found the door locked, and a rap upon it brought no response. "He isn't here, that's sure," said Jack. "Maybe he went out on an errand." "Unless he's in our room," said Fred. In the larger apartment which the four boys occupied there was a small table, and Jack's father had several times come in to use this for writing purposes. Jack had one of the keys to the room, and, stepping across the hallway, he attempted to insert this in the lock. Much to his surprise, the key would not go into the keyhole. "That is strange----" he began, and then tried the door, to find it unlocked. Another key was on the inside. The room was pitch dark, only a dim lamp being lighted in the rear of the long hallway. Jack stepped forward to get a match from a bureau, and as he did so he stumbled over something on the floor and pitched headlong. "Oh!" he gasped, and then gave a sudden shudder, for he had felt the body of someone beside him. "Be careful," he went on. "Make a light, quick! Here is someone on the floor! I'm afraid it's dad!" The others piled into the room, and Randy, who happened to have some matches in his pocket, struck a light and lit the lamp. There, on the floor of the bedroom, lay Dick Rover. There was a small cut on his left temple from which the blood was flowing. He was breathing heavily, and evidently trying to speak. "Dad! Dad! what happened to you?" cried Jack hoarsely, as he bent over and raised his parent up. "He's been hurt!" exclaimed Fred. "See the cut on his forehead. Wait--I'll get some water." He made a dash for the pitcher and also for a towel, and while Jack supported his father on his arm the others bathed Dick Rover's face and washed away the trickling blood. "He's been hit," declared Randy. "See the lump on the back of his head," and he pointed it out. Presently Dick Rover opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the anxious lads. "What--what--what happened to me?" he stammered and gave a gasp. "Who--who knocked me down?" "That we don't know, Dad," answered Jack, and he was glad to realize that his parent was coming to his senses. "Gee! I was afraid you had been killed." The four boys raised Dick Rover up and laid him on one of the cots. They had a little first-aid kit with them, and from this they got some plaster with which they bound up the small cut.