"Yes,—they didn't go. Changed clothes with the porters. I just heard
Miss Dodge telling Mr. Bennett."
Clutching Hand eyed him keenly, then seemed to burst into an ungovernable fury.
Quickly he began volleying orders at the valet and the others. Then, with the secretary and two of the other crooks he left by another door from that by which he had sent the valet forth.
. . . . . . . .
Leaving the undertaker's, Kennedy and I made our way, keeping off thoroughfares, to police headquarters, where, after making ourselves known, Craig made arrangements for a raid on the house across the street from the laboratory where we had seen the opera glass reflection.
Then, as secretly as we had come, we went out again, letting ourselves into the laboratory, stealthily looking up and down the street. We entered by a basement door, which Kennedy carefully locked again.
No sooner had we disappeared than one of the Clutching Hand's spies who had been watching behind a barrel of rubbish gave the signal of the hand down the street to a confederate and, going to the door, entered by means of a skeleton key.
We entered our laboratory which Kennedy had closed the day before. With shades drawn, it now looked deserted enough.
I dropped into a chair and lighted a cigarette with a sigh of relief, for really I had thought, until the boat sailed, that Kennedy actually contemplated going away.
Kennedy went over to a cabinet and, from it, took out a notebook and a small box. Opening the notebook on the laboratory table, he rapidly turned the pages.