"Or there will be worse coming to you," and he thrust the muzzle of his revolver against the man's heaving chest to illustrate his meaning; then as Kent called again, he sped down the hall and brought up breathless at the front door.The light was still burning in the corridor, though not very brightly, and he saw Kent hand the grinning messenger boy a shiny quarter.Touching his battered cap the boy went whistling away."Tell the elevator boy to report that a fuse has burned out in Mr.Rochester's apartment,"Ferguson called after him, and the lad waved his hand as he dashed into the elevator.
Paying no attention to the detective's call, Kent showed him a white envelope which bore the simple address:
PHILIP ROCHESTER, ESQ.
THE SARATOGA
"It's the identical envelope I found in your safe," declared Ferguson.
"And which disappeared last night at the Club de Vingt." Kent turned over the envelope."See, the red seal."For a minute the men contemplated the seal with the large distinctive letter "B" in the center.
"Open the letter, sir," Ferguson urged and Kent, his fingers fairly trembling, jerked and tore at the linen incased envelope; the flap ripped away and he opened the envelope - it was empty.
Instinctively the two men glanced down at the parquetry flooring;nothing but a thin coating of dust lay there, and Kent looked up and down the corridor; it was deserted.
"Do you recognize the handwriting?" asked Ferguson.
"No." Kent regarded the envelope in bewilderment."What shall we do?""Do? Call up the Dime Messenger Service and see where the envelope came from; but first come and see my prisoner.
"Your prisoner?" in profound astonishment.
"Yes.I caught him chasing up the hall after you," explained Ferguson as they hurriedly retraced their steps."I put handcuffs on him and then went to you.Ah, here's the light!""The light, yes; but where's your prisoner?" and Kent, who was a trifle in advance of his companion in reaching the dining room, stood aside to let Ferguson pass him.
The detective halted abruptly.The chair into which he had thrust his prisoner was vacant.The man had disappeared.
With one accord Ferguson and Kent advanced close to the chair, and an oath broke from.the detective.On the cushion of the chair, still bearing the impress of a human body, lay a pair of shining new handcuffs.
Dazedly Ferguson stooped over and examined them.They were still securely locked.Wheeling around Kent dashed through the door to his right and Ferguson, collecting his wits, searched the rest of the apartment with minute care.Five minutes later he came face to face with Kent in the living room."Not a trace of any kind,"declared Kent."It's the same as the other night; the man's gone.
It's - it's positively uncanny."
Ferguson's face was red from mortification and his exertions combined.
"The fellow must have slipped from the room by that other door and out through the living room as we came down the hail," he said.
"Did you shut the door of the apartment, Mr.Kent, before coming down here to look at the prisoner?""Yes." Kent led the way back to the dining room."Did you recognize the man, Ferguson?""No." The detective swore softly as he stared about the room.
"The lights went out just as I tackled him.""It was beastly luck that the fuse burned out at that second,"groaned Kent."Fortune was with him in that; but how did the man get free of the handcuffs?" pointing to them still lying in the chair."We can't attribute that to luck, unless" - staring keenly at Ferguson -" unless you did not snap them on the man's wrists, after all.""I did; I swear it," declared Ferguson."I'm no novice at that business.Here, don't touch them, Mr.Kent," as his companion bent toward the chair."There may be finger marks on the steel; if so"- he drew out his handkerchief, and taking care not to handle the burnished metal, he folded the handcuffs carefully in it and put them in his coat pocket."There's no use lingering here, Mr.Kent;this apartment is vacant now except for us.I must get to Headquarters.""Hadn't you better telephone for an operative and station him here?"suggested Kent.
"I did so while you were searching the back rooms," replied Ferguson.
"There," as the gong sounded."That's Nelson, now."But the person who stood in the outer corridor when they opened the front door was not Nelson, the operative, but Dr.Stone.
"Can I see Mr.Rochester?" he asked, then catching sight of Kent standing just back of the detective, he added, "Hello, Kent; Ithought I heard some one walking about in here from my apartment next door, and concluded Rochester had returned.Can I see him?""N-no," Kent spoke slowly, with a side-glance at the silent detective."Rochester has been here - and left."
