"What can I do for you?" asked one of the men abruptly, as Dick looked around.
"Is a man named Cuffer stopping here?"
The hotel clerk shook his head.
"Perhaps I have the name wrong. I mean a man who came in a minute or two ago—fellow with a soft hat, knocked in on the side."
"Oh, that chap! Yes, he's here room eighteen, next floor," and the clerk pointed up the stairs, for the hotel had no elevator.
Dick walked up the stairs slowly, revolving in his mind what he should do if he met Cuffer face to face. If he had the man arrested it might lead to legal complications, and the voyage in search of Treasure Isle might be delayed. It would be hard to prove that the rascal had done any actual wrong.
Reaching the upper hallway, Dick looked at the dingy numbers on the still more dingy doors. Eighteen proved to be at the rear, where it was so dark he could scarcely see.
As the youth approached the door he heard a murmur of voices in the room beyond. He listened, and made out Cuffer speaking, and then he recognized the voice of Shelley.
"And so I dusted out before I had a chance to get any money from Sobber," Cuffer was saying.
