He claimed his key at the desk, and went upstairs to his room.

He had scarcely lit the gas, however, when a knock was heard at the door.

Opening it unsuspiciously, he turned pale, as he recognized the clerk, in company with an officer of the law.
"What's wanted ?" he faltered.
"You are wanted," was the brief reply.
"What for ?" he gasped.
"You are charged with entering the adjoining room, and stealing a pocketbook from the boy who sleeps there." "It's a lie!" he said, but his tone was nervous.
"You must submit to a search," said the officer.
"Do you mean to insult me ?" demanded Fairfax, assuming an air of outraged virtue.
"Not at all.

I am only giving you a chance to clear yourself from suspicion." "I am a respectable merchant from Portland.

I was never so insulted in my life," said Fairfax.
"If the charge proves groundless, I will make you an ample apology," said the officer.
Fairfax was compelled to submit to the search.