"When did it happen?" Ranleigh asked.

"About five o'clock this afternoon, sir," Whiteside replied, in a most
apologetic tone. He knew there was no sympathy and no excuse for the
detective who let his prisoner escape. "The bell rang. I went to the
door--and was shot senseless by a chemical revolver. When I came to, I
had exchanged places with the prisoner, and he and another man were
just departing. 'My compliments to Mr. Harleston when he returns,' said
Crenshaw, as he went out."

"Describe the other man!" said Ranleigh.

"Medium sized, slender, dark hair and eyes, good features, looked like a
gentleman, wore a blue sack-suit, black silk tie, and stiff straw hat."

"It's Sparrow," Harleston remarked. "Did they take anything with them?"

"Nothing whatever that I saw, sir."

"You're excused until morning," said the Chief curtly.

The detective saluted and went out.

"I am exceedingly sorry I overlooked Whiteside when I escaped from
Crenshaw's garrote in the Chateau," Harleston remarked. "The simple fact
is, I clean forgot him until I was talking with you on the telephone."

"It's just as well, Mr. Harleston," Ranleigh replied. "It served him
right. He will be fortunate if his want of precaution doesn't cost him