WASHINGTON – Around lunchtime at the Omni Shoreham, Will Begeny approached the concierge to ask for some stranger-in-town assistance. He was looking for a restaurant with a respectable sake selection and dining spots that could cater to a gluten allergy.

The uniformed man behind the counter recommended Sake Club, circling it on a photocopied map, then noting three other nearby restaurants that might accommodate the dietary restriction. He ended the conversation with an insider flourish: “I know the owner of Sake Club. Tell him Herman sent you.”

Most guests would walk away thinking, “Now, wasn’t that Herman helpful?” and start fantasizing about rice wine and wheat-free pasta. Not Begeny. The hotel reviewer for Oyster.com, a new online source for lodging seekers, filed that interaction in his mental logbook, an expanding tome of insights gleaned over a night and a day of snooping around the hotel premises. Begeny would then parlay those experiences into a multipart review consisting of a pearl rating (one through five), a meaty blurb of 1,500 to 2,000 words and a photo gallery with hundreds of images.

“We are giving a comparative evaluation of the hotel but are also showing people the big picture,” said the senior editor of Oyster, which employs four inspectors. “We want them to have enough information so they can make the right choice for them.”

Oyster.com, which launched in June, is one of the newest players in the hotel rating game. (The site recently scaled back expansion plans and laid off much of its reviewing staff; for a start-up, ranking hotels is not like striking oil.) The veterans in leisure travel are Mobil Travel Guide, which recently became Forbes, and AAA. Behind the rankings lurk expert inspectors who do the dirty work, so that we don’t have to sleep in it. They check for hairballs in sinks, fabricate questions to test the staff’s knowledge and count the number of phone rings before the reservationist answers.

We shadowed two of these CIA-style operatives in action last month: Begeny, whose face and bio are splashed on the Web site, and an AAA veteran of 27 years who requested anonymity.

Dapper in a dark suit and silk tie, AAA Man blended in with other guests at the Hay-Adams, the storied hotel a stone’s throw from the White House. He could have been in town for a tete-a-tete with a congressman or to attend a fundraiser for the Kennedy Center.

When we rendezvoused in the lobby, AAA Man had already completed the overnight portion of his examination. (Only four- and five-diamond properties warrant sleepovers; smaller denominations require only a day visit.)

The organization combines a physical inspection that covers the entire hotel grounds, from the lobby to guest rooms, with a service-related system of accrued points. To earn four diamonds, the property must score a 108; for five sparklers, the magic number is 268. With crucial diamonds on the line, little goes unnoticed or undocumented.

In his descriptions, AAA Man was as meticulous and methodical as a detective reconstructing a crime scene. “I called room service, and she answered on the second ring,” AAA Man said of his early a.m. encounter. “The French toast came with a cornflake crust. I asked if I could have regular French toast. She said no.” (Note to staffer: demerit for the quick dismissal.) “I ordered pancakes instead. She called back within 15 seconds to say the chef could make French toast without the crust. She asked me if I wanted fruit salad. She tried to get me to eat more-healthy food. She confirmed the order.”

At the end of the meal the server, in closing the door, inadvertently flipped over the Do Not Disturb sign, resulting in a surprise visit from housekeeping. “No place is perfect,” AAA Man remarked. “It’s how they correct their error.” Here they did it with apologies and returning the sign to its proper position.

The inspector deliberately threw a bar of soap into a bag and hid the room’s pad of paper and pen to see whether the housekeepers would replace the items (they did). To assess the concierge’s expertise, he asked for the starting time of the National Christmas Tree lighting ceremony and a museum’s hours. He received a tentative answer confirmed by a follow-up call.

AAA Man checked out, then revealed his identity to request face time with manager Colette Marquez and replayed his stay for her edification. Responding to French-toastgate, she said: “I cringed when you said that. I guess at least she thought about it after she hung up.”

After quick stops in the fitness center and the business center, where he admired the office supplies, he was ready to deliver his verdict: “Everything looks great. I will recommend that you retain your four diamonds.”

Begeny, dressed casually in a brown button-down shirt and jeans, employed more acrobatic techniques, such as scaling the bathtub to photograph the shower head.

“We don’t stop at the pearl rating,” said Begeny, who had previously worked with the New York Police Department. “We want to show every cranny. There’s no detail left unnoted, especially the bathroom.”

Begeny had spent the night at the hotel, as required by Oyster, as a regular guest without an agenda: “I want to see what they do without any requests or demands – if the hotel takes the initiative.”

He tried out the WiFi in the lobby, flicked through all the TV channels and cranked up the heat in his room. “I did not feel a difference,” he noted, partly blaming the drafty picture window. After midnight, he dialed room service to order a grilled chicken sandwich. The hotel passed on all accounts except for the jalapeno peppers. “I did not ask for them,” he said, “and they weren’t on the menu.”

The next day I observed the Towel Test, which involved calling the front desk for an extra towel, then watching the clock. Nine minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Begeny next peeled back the layers of bedding with the care of an archaeologist at an ancient site. His field notes: “Here’s something I have never seen before: a poly-filled duvet on top of a poly-cotton-blend sheet on top of a down comforter on top of another sheet on top of a bottom sheet that is not fitted on top of a very thin mattress pad on top of a pillow-top mattress from Serta.” His photos document this layer cake of linens.

Begeny toured the entire property, inspecting every obscure hallway, peering into every public room and roaming the outdoor grounds. At the fitness center, he snapped shots of cardio machines and the spa treatment door, then noted the lack of staffing at the front desk.

Begeny then identified himself to guests, seeking to gain a consensus by amassing others’ comments. A man in fitness attire relaxing over coffee and a newspaper turned out to be a Washingtonian who belonged to the on-site gym, so he didn’t qualify. Neither did two visitors who spoke little English. Then Begeny introduced himself to a woman by the front desk mailbox and asked for her impressions of the hotel (“I think it’s very nice and elegant”), how she chose it (her boyfriend did) and whether she had had any problems. “The fridge did not get very cold,” said Mary Muniz of Colorado Springs, adding that “the maid was a little defensive.”

Begeny closed out the inspection with the director of marketing, who agreed to open doors to other guest rooms, starting with the apartment-size “haunted” showpiece, the Ghost Suite. Available only in special instances, the suite comes with a chandeliered dining room, a capacious kitchen, fireplaces and alleged hauntings linked to the mysterious deaths of two female occupants last century. He clicked away on his Nikon but never once poked around closets or ran a fingertip over counters. “I am not really inspecting the rooms, because I caught them off-guard,” he explained.

Postscript: The Omni Shoreham received 3 1/2 pearls. The Hay-Adams kept its four diamonds.