At first I wondered whether the hotel upholsterer had been at work on the previous day and had left them behind. He might have used them for pinning down my carpet. I took one up and examined it. Next second I stood aghast. The others I also took up, handling them very gingerly, for around the points of each was some colourless transparent substance which looked like vaseline. Such a substance was not ordinarily upon the points of carpet pins. A horrible thought flashed across my mind. Therefore I carefully placed the three pins upon the small glass tray upon the dressing-table, and dressed as quickly as I could, reflecting the while upon my adventure with the stranger whom I had taken to be a thief. I shaved, swallowed the coffee which the young waiter brought me, and at once descended to the bureau; when in French I inquired of the clerk for Señor Salavera. He examined the register and replied politely: "We have no one of that name staying here, señor." "What?" I cried. "He was in Room 175 last night!" "Number 175 was Señor Solier," replied the smart young clerk. "He paid his bill and left just after seven o'clock this morning." "But I saw his identification papers--his passport--letters addressed to him as Señor Salavera!" "That may be so, señor," was the suave reply. "But he registered here as Señor Solier." And then he dropped into English, which he spoke very fairly. "Of course people who stay at hotels do not always give their correct names. They do not wish them published in visitors' lists in the newspapers. Perhaps it is only natural," and he smiled. "Have you any one named Pedro Espada in the hotel?" I inquired. Again he consulted his register, but shook his head. "Nobody of that name," he replied. I hesitated. Then I asked: "Did the gentleman who spent the night in Room 175 depart alone?" The reception-clerk called the uniformed concierge, and asked: "Did Number 175 leave alone?" "Yes," was the reply. "He caught the early express for Zaragoza. He was going on to Barcelona, he told me. He went in the omnibus." "No one with him?" "Nobody." "When did he arrive?" I asked. "The night before last. He was alone--with only a handbag. I charged him with a deposit for his room." "Have you ever seen him before?" I asked. "Never to my recollection." "Neither have I," remarked the concierge. "He seemed very afraid of being seen. I noticed him in the lounge last night. He left this morning quite suddenly, and without taking anything--even a cup of coffee." "He left in a violent hurry--eh?" I exclaimed, well knowing the reason. "Well," I added, "I wish to see the manager." "I will inform him," the clerk replied, and he went to the telephone. A minute later, after exchanging a few words in Spanish, he turned to me, saying: "You will find the manager's office on the first floor. If you take the lift the man will direct you, señor."