there along the Avenue.

A short distance behind the other, but on the opposite side of the
street, Jimmie Dale followed the detective. There was hardly any use now
in going to Kenleigh's, for, if the detective was really bound for
there, it made his, Jimmie Dale's, errand useless--the summoning of the
Headquarters' man was _prima facie_ evidence that the robbery had
already been committed. And yet a certain grim curiosity remained. Just
how had it been done? And besides, she had said, "half-past one at
Virat's," so there was time to spare. The distorted lips of Larry the
Bat thinned ominously. No; it was not useless even now. He had a very
strong personal interest in all that had taken place--Virat would be the
less likely to slip through his fingers, or through the fingers of the
law, for the information that the scene of the robbery might supply!

Meighan disappeared suddenly inside an apartment house, which Jimmie
Dale recognised as a rather fashionable one, devoted exclusively to
bachelors' quarters, Jimmie Dale quickened his step, walked on to the
next corner, crossed the street, and came back along the block. As he
approached the apartment-house entrance, voices reached him from the
vestibule, and then he heard the closing of a door.

"Ground floor--left," murmured Larry the Bat to himself. He smiled
facetiously. "Saves an interview with the janitor!"

He glanced sharply around him in all directions--and the next instant
was inside the vestibule--and in another, without a sound, was crouched
close against the apartment door. A delicate little steel picklock was
working now, the deft fingers manipulating it silently, and then
stealthily he pushed the door open a crack. A man's voice, agitated,