They stared at the smoking stub on the hearth, gazed fearfully
around the dimly lighted bedroom, and peered into the dark
dining-room beyond.

Suddenly Miss Erith's hand tightened on his sleeve.

"Hark!" she motioned.

He heard it, too--a scuffling noise of heavy feet behind a closed
door somewhere beyond the darkened dining-room.

"There's somebody in the kitchenette!" she whispered.

Vaux produced his pistol; they stole forward into the dining-room;
halted by the table.

"Flash that door," he said in a low voice.

Her electric torch played over the closed kitchen door for an
instant, then, at a whispered word from him, she shut it off and the
dining-room was plunged again into darkness.

And then, before Vaux or Miss Erith had concluded what next was to
be done, the kitchen door opened; and, against the dangling lighted
bulb within, loomed a burly figure wearing hat and overcoat and a
big bass voice rumbled through the apartment:

"All right, all right, keep your shirt on and I'll get your coat and
vest for you--"