"Yes."

"Where are the handcuffs?"

She fished out the nickel-plated bracelets and he pocketed his
torch. A pleasant thrill passed through the rather ethereal anatomy
of Mr. Vaux.

"All right," he said briskly. "Here's hoping for adjoining cells!"

To jimmy the glass door was the swiftly cautious work of a moment or
two. Then the dark stairs rose in front of them and Vaux took the
lead. It was as cold as the pole in there, but Vaux's blood was
racing now. And alas! the photograph of Arethusa was in his desk at
the office!

On the third floor he flashed his torch through an empty corridor
and played it smartly over every closed door. On the fourth floor he
took his torch in his left hand, his pistol in his right.

"The door to the apartment is open!" she whispered.

It was. A lamp on a table inside was still burning. They had a
glimpse of a cheap carpet on the floor, cheap and gaudy furniture.
Vaux extinguished and pocketed his torch, then, pistol lifted, he
stepped noiselessly into the front room.

It seemed to be a sort of sitting-room, and was in disorder;
cushions from a lounge lay about the floor; several books were
scattered near them; an upholstered chair had been ripped open and