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on the envelope proved to be that of a hotel in a run-down district.
    At the desk in the lobby, a clerk glanced up as Nancy approached him. “Is a Mr. R. I. Channing registered here?” she asked.
    The clerk shook his head.
    “Perhaps I was mistaken in the name,” Nancy said quickly. “Have you a guest who works for the Forest Fur Company?”
    The clerk grew impatient. “No, young lady. This is a residential hotel, and we don’t handle business, so—”
    “Did you mention the Forest Fur Company?” interrupted a voice behind Nancy.
    The speaker was a red-haired woman in her early forties. She was wearing a tight dress and too much make-up and jewelry. Nancy turned to her.
    “I’m Miss Reynolds,” the woman said. “I live here and I couldn’t help overhearing your question. I know the person you’re looking for. I’m a stockholder in his company.”
    Nancy’s heart leaped. She introduced herself and her aunt, and said, “Can you tell me where I can find the man you mentioned?”
    “Why, he’s Mr. Sidney Boyd, and he lives in the suite next to mine!” the woman said loftily. “He is a true student of the theater, Miss Drew. He said that my performance in Wild Lilacs —”
    “I’m sure he was very complimentary, Miss Reynolds,” Nancy interrupted. “But do you mind telling me how you happened to purchase stock in the Forest Fur Company?”
    “Well, I had to coax Mr. Boyd to sell it to me,” the woman said coyly.
    The clerk had listened to the conversation. After Miss Reynolds nodded good-by to the Drews and sauntered to the elevator, the man came over. “Hm!” he snorted. “Bunny Reynolds hasn’t had a theater engagement in years!”
    “What about this Sidney Boyd?” Nancy prompted.
    “Yes, tell us about him,” Aunt Eloise put in.
    “Ladies, I’m manager as well as clerk here. We don’t want trouble on the premises.”
    “Then I imagine you want to avoid trouble with the law, too,” Eloise Drew said. “Suppose this Mr. Boyd is involved in a stock swindle?”
    “A swindle!” the manager gasped. “Well, I did suspect there was something phony about that glib talker,” he added defensively.
    “What does he look like?” Nancy asked.
    The clerk shrugged. “The usual ladies’ man. Slender. Dark eyes. Kind of long, uncombed hair.”
    “He can’t be Mr. Channing,” Nancy thought, “because he’s a big, broad-shouldered man.” Aloud she said, “May I question some of your staff about Mr. Boyd? It won’t take long.”
    The man hesitated, then nodded. “Step into my office, ladies. I’ll send the porters in first.”
    The men could tell nothing about Sidney Boyd except that he tipped generously. All the maids but one were unable to add anything. Katy, the fourth-floor maid, had such an uneasy manner of speaking that Nancy felt she might know something important about the suspect. She questioned the woman further.
    “Mr. Boyd gets up late,” Katy said, growing more talkative. “Sometimes, while I’m waiting to clean up, he chats with me.”
    “What does he talk about?” Nancy asked. “Oh, once he told me about when he was a little boy in Canada,” said Katy. “He said his mother was French and his pa was a fur trapper— and he learned up there about furs. That’s how I came to buy some of his fur stock.”
    “Forest Fur Company stock?” Nancy asked.
    “Yes. I had a little money saved up,” said Katy. “Maybe I shouldn’t have spent it. But Mr. Boyd wants to help me make more money. He says I’ll get big dividends.”
    “Have you had any yet?” Nancy asked.
    “No, but Mr. Boyd promised some soon.”
    “The man’s completely unscrupulous!” Eloise Drew cried out. “He swindles hard-working people like you!”
    “Swindles?” Katy said. Tears began to stream down her face. “I’ve been robbed?”
    “I think you’ll get your money back,” Nancy said soothingly. “Just try to tell me—”
    Katy had already leaped to her feet. Sobbing, she flung open the