In the cab, Maitland, turning to watch through the rear peep-hole, was
thrown violently against the side as the hansom rocketed on one wheel into
his street. Recovering, he seized the dashboard and gathered himself
together, ready to spring the instant the vehicle paused in its headlong
career.

Through the cabby's misunderstanding of the address, in all likelihood,
the horse was reined in on its haunches some three houses distant from the
apartment building. Maitland found himself sprawling on his hands and
knees on the sidewalk, picked himself up, shouting "You'll wait?" to the
driver, and sprinted madly the few yards separating him from his own front
door, keys ready in hand.

Simultaneously the half-winded policeman lumbered around the Fifth Avenue
corner, and a man, detaching himself from the shadows of a neighboring
doorway, began to trot loutishly across the street, evidently with the
intention of intercepting Maitland at the door.

He was hardly quick enough. Maitland did not even see him. The door
slammed in the man's face, and he, panting harshly, rapped out an
imprecation and began a frantic assault on the push-button marked
"Janitor."

As for Maitland, he was taking the stairs three at a clip, and had his
pass-key in the latch almost as soon as his feet touched the first
landing. An instant later he thrust the door open and blundered blindly
into the pitch-darkness of his study.

For a thought he stood bewildered and dismayed by the absence of light. He