tered. Usually the Imperial, in spite of its name, did not attract such a class of patrons. The boys bargained for three connecting rooms, and, as they had plenty of money were given good apartments on the second floor.
"Register," the clerk said, swinging the book around to them.
As Bart took the pen to write his name, he looked at the book and gave a start.
"I thought first that was Ned's writing," he said as he looked where his chum, but a few hours before had written "Thomas Seldon."
"Friend of yours?" asked the clerk quickly.
"I thought first it looked like the writing of a chum of mine," Bart replied. "But it's different I see."
"Guess that chap doesn't travel in your company," the clerk went on, as the other boys put down their names.
"Why?"
"Oh, he's a crook I guess," and he told of the discovery of Ned's escape down the rope. "He hasn't done anything as far as we can learn," the clerk went on, "but his getting out that way showed there was something wrong, though he was honest enough to leave a dollar for his room, which he didn't occupy. However, the police
