But he was not above his station.

He even assisted the porter in carrying the coats and golf bags of the gentlemen from the car to the coffee-room where, with the intuition of the homing pigeon, the three strangers had, unaided, found their way.

As Carl Schultz followed, carrying the dust-coats, a road map fell from the pocket of one of them to the floor.

Carl Schultz picked it up, and was about to replace it, when his eyes were held by notes scrawled roughly in pencil.

With an expression that no longer was that of a head-waiter, Carl cast one swift glance about him and then slipped into the empty coat-room and locked the door.