Once off the Avenue he ran the greater part of the way round the block, for he knew that in five minutes, at the outside, the police themselves would be on the scene. And as he ran he let his alert imagination play along the difficulties that walled him in, feeling, in ever-shifting fancy, for the line of least resistance.
He mounted the brownstone steps three at a time, and tore at the old-fashioned bell. He pushed his way authoritatively up through a cluster of servants, shivering and chattering and whispering along the hall.
At a young woman in a crimson quilted dressing-gown, faced with baby-blue silk, he flashed his foolish little metal shield. She was a resolute-browed, well-poised girl, looking strangely boyish with her tumbled hair thrown loosely to one side.
“I’m the plain-clothes man, the detective from the police station!”
He looked at her abstractedly, and curtly shifted his revolver from his hip-pocket to his side-pocket. This caused a stir among the servants.
“Get those people out of here!” he ordered.
The resolute-browed young woman in the dressing-gown scattered them with a movement of the hand, and slipped a key into his fingers. Then she pointed to a doorway.
“This thing was half expected, ma’m, at Headquarters,” said Durkin hurriedly, as he fitted the key. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
The girl with the resolute brow and the tumbled hair could not say.
“But I think I understand,” she went on hurriedly. “I had quite a large sum of money, several thousand dollars, in my room here!”
Durkin, who had stooped to unlock the door, turned on her quickly.
“And it’s still in this room?” he demanded.
“No; it worried me too much. I was going to keep it, but I took it down to the bank, this afternoon.”
Then the girl said “Sir!” wonderingly; for Durkin had emitted a quick mutter of anger. They were doubly defeated. By this time the bedroom door was open.
“Ah, I thought it would be a woman,” he went on coolly, as he glanced at Frank’s staring and wide eyes. “And, if I mistake not, Miss Van Schaick, this is Number 17358, at the Central Office.”
Frances knew his chortle was one of hysteria, but still she looked and wondered. Once more Durkin flashed his badge as he took her firmly by one shaking wrist.