"I want to know what your game is," was the cool response. "You haven't put up a cent, and that mustache of yours is false. I have an idea you are a spy."

CHAPTER XXII.

HAL MEETS LAURA SUMNER.

Hal was somewhat taken aback by the statement made to him by one of the proprietors of the resort he had entered, but he quickly recovered.

"It is true the mustache is false, but it is not true that I am spying upon you," he said.

And this was true, for he cared nothing as to what took place in the resort so long as it did not appertain to Mr. Allen or Hardwick.

"That's easy enough to say, but how can you prove it?" was the short reply.

"Is it necessary to prove it?" returned Hal, just as quickly.

"Well, the case is just here, we don't want spies around here."

Hal could not help but smile.

"Do you know how I learned of this resort?" he asked.

"One of the dudes who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut told you, I suppose."

"No. An old apple-stand fellow told me."

"Is that true?"

"It is. So if the police wanted to stop you they could easily do so."

The proprietor muttered something under his breath.

"Well, you are sure you don't intend to give us away, then?"

"I do not."

"What brought you?"

"Curiosity concerning a fellow who played here."

"What fellow?"

"Mr. Caleb Allen."

"What! the man who just left?"

"Yes."

"Are you spotting him?"

"Excuse me, but that's my business. He has gone, and with your permission I will follow him."

The man looked at Hal for a second in silence.

"I'll trust you, for you have the right kind of eyes. You are following Allen for a purpose, but that's none of my affair. When you go just forget all about this place, unless you want to come in some time and try a hand."

"Thank you, I don't gamble," and without another word Hal left the room and hurried down stairs.

A hasty look into the various rooms convinced him that Allen had left the building, and then Hal lost no time in doing likewise.

What he had seen disgusted him beyond measure.

"How men can stay up all night and gamble in a place like that I can't understand," he murmured to himself. "I would rather be in bed and asleep. And it stands to reason the proprietors have the best of it, otherwise how could they run such a gorgeous house?"

Hal was soon on the snow-covered pavement.

He looked up and down, but Allen was nowhere in sight.

"It is no use to try to follow him any farther to-night," thought the youth. "I may as well get home and get some sleep--but, no, I can't do that. I must find a new boarding house, and go under a different name for the present. One thing is sure. Mr. Allen can't gamble in that fashion with what he makes honestly. He and Hardwick are a couple of deep rogues, and that's all there is to it, and d.i.c.k Ferris and that Macklin are their tools."

It was now too late to hunt up a regular boarding place, and upon second thought Hal resolved for the present to put up at one of the cheap hotels.

This he did, and slept soundly until morning.

When he slouched into the office at ten o'clock, still wearing the false mustache and Jack McCabe's hat, Mr. Sumner did not at first recognize him.

"What do you want?" he asked, from the book-keeper's desk, where he was busy instructing the new man in his work.

"I wish to see you in private, sir," was Hal's reply, and he winked.

For a second Mr. Sumner was puzzled. Then he smiled and led the way to his private office.

"Hal, I hardly knew you!" he burst out, the instant the door was closed.

"I hardly know myself, Mr. Sumner," was the youth's reply.

"The mustache is almost a complete disguise."

"I have news for you. Mr. Allen was not in Philadelphia yesterday."

"No? Where, then?"

"He spent a great part of the time in the evening in a gambling-house uptown."

"You are certain?"