"Well, then, Lauffer must have it in his apartment upstairs."

"Which apartment is it?"

"The fourth floor. His name is under a bell on a brass plate in the
entry. I noticed it when I came in." She turned off the electric
light; they went to the door, reconnoitred cautiously, saw nobody on
the avenue. However, a tramcar was passing, and they waited; then
Vaux flashed his torch on the bell-plate.

Under the bell marked "Fourth Floor" was engraved Herman Lauffer's
name.

"You know," remonstrated Vaux, "we have no warrant for this sort of
thing, and it means serious trouble if we're caught."

"I know it. But what other way is there?" she inquired naively. "You
allowed me only twenty-four hours, and I WON'T back out!"

"What procedure do you propose now?" he asked, grimly amused, and
beginning to feel rather reckless himself, and enjoying the feeling.
"What do you wish to do?" he repeated. "I'm game."

"I have an automatic pistol," she remarked seriously, tapping her
fur-coat pocket, "--and a pair of handcuffs--the sort that open and
lock when you strike a man on the wrist with them. You know the
kind?"

"Surely. You mean to commit assault and robbery in the first degree
upon the body of the aforesaid Herman?"