Читать книгу A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits онлайн

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“Didn’t you get their names?”

Nick glanced at his assistant with a tired smile.

“Their name is Silvius. The father is Roscoe Silvius, and his daughter is known as Bessie. I suppose her full name is Elizabeth. But ‘Bessie’ will do for our purpose. We’ll go down to the restaurant and see if they will give us a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Then we can stroll over to the garden, where the vaudeville show is. That was a long, tiresome ride on the stage, and I dare say you are as hungry as I am.”

“I don’t know just how hungry you are,” returned Chick. “But I know I am about starved. I could eat the china handle off a door.”

The two detectives had, in fact, been in the Savoy Hotel only half an hour. They had arrived on the stage from the terminus of the little railroad that ran out of Edmonton, in Alberta, in company with a party of three tourists, and had passed as such themselves. There was nothing distinctive about their appearance to tell the world what their profession was.

They had come direct to the room to which they had been assigned, and, having had a wash and brush up, were ready for the meal that was always furnished for the stage passengers in the evening.