"Oh, yes, there's an elderly matinee idol lives here, who wouldn't dare leave his room until I have renovated him. If there was an alarm of fire before I got here, I believe he'd burn up." Jack laughed. "But I see you have serious affairs on your mind. Au revoir. Come down to my place when you can, and we'll talk philosophy." With a nod and a smile he went on to the elevator. Meanwhile Jack had missed nothing of what went on at the desk. In a short while a messenger boy came in carrying the packet he had seen in Anderson's hands. It was receipted for at the desk and tossed in the pigeonhole marked "F" of the division for letters to be called for. For twenty minutes thereafter Jack watched the comedy of "The Hotel Desk" being played before him. Unfortunately his mind was at too great a tension to permit him to enjoy the finer shades of comedy. He silently swore at the crowd and the confusion which made it well-nigh impossible for one pair of eyes to follow all that was going on. He concentrated on the letter box marked "F," and watched it until his eyeballs seemed ready to crack. Finally the hand of one of the clerks shot out to that box, and hastily shuffling the contents, picked out the packet again. Jack's heart gave a jump. He hastily scanned the row in front of the desk at the moment, but there was no figure among them that answered to the descriptions of "Mr. B." At the end of the row was another messenger boy. The clerk handed the packet to him. "Of course he wouldn't come himself," thought Jack. Jack followed the messenger out of the hotel. Boy-like, he shambled up the street, whistling vociferously, tossing the packet in the air and catching it again, careless of the pedestrians he collided with in his exercise. Presumably had he known the contents he would have treated the packet with greater respect. He turned West in Thirty-Fourth street, stopping to gaze in every window that attracted his attention. Jack was hard put to it to accommodate himself to the snail-like pace without being conspicuous. At the Madison avenue corner an automobile had broken down. The boy hailed this diversion with glee, and Jack, too, had to stand around until the youngster had gazed his fill. Suddenly the boy aimlessly darted across the street like a bird--or a boy, threading his way among the cars hurrying in both directions. Jack almost lost him then. He finally picked him up on the other side, engaged in converse with another messenger. An argument developed and hostilities were threatened. "I kin lick you wit' one hand behind me." "You're anutter!" "Want to see me do it?" "Ya-ah!" "You jus' say any more and you'll see!" "I ain't askeered of yeh, yeh big stiff!" "You say that again!" "Ahh! I dare yeh to touch me! I dare yeh!"