"It's Telfik
Bey."
"Telfik Bey? Wait a minute. Let me think." The name had struck a
response from some thought wire within Average Jones' perturbed
brain. Presently it came to him as visualized print in small
head-lines, reproduced to the mind's eye from the Washington
newspaper which he had so exhaustively studied.
THIS TURK A QUICK JUMPER
Telfik Bey, Guest of Turkish Embassy, Barely
Escapes a Speeding Motor-Car
No arrest, it appeared, had been made. The "story," indeed, was
brief, and of no intrinsic importance other than as a social note.
But to Average Jones it began to glow luminously.
"Who is Telfik Bey?" he inquired.
"He isn't. Up to yesterday he was a guest of this hotel."
"Indeed! Skipped without paying his bill?"
"Yes--ah. Skipped--that is, left suddenly without paying his bill,
if you choose to put it that way."
The tone was significant. Average Jones' good natured face became
grave.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Tommy. Was he a friend of yours?"
"No. He was, in a sense, a ward of the Department, over here on
invitation.
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