Kennedy made a mental note of it. Evidently Schloss trusted Muller implicitly. He seemed like a partner, rather than an employee, even though he had not been entrusted with the secret combination.
Outside, we ran into city detective Lieutenant Winters, the officer who was stationed at the Maiden Lane post, guarding that famous section of the Dead Line established by the immortal Byrnes at Fulton Street, below which no crook was supposed to dare even to be seen. Winters had been detailed on the case.
“You have seen the safe in there?” asked Kennedy, as he was leaving to carry on his investigation elsewhere.
Winters seemed to be quite as skeptical as Schloss had intimated the public would be. “Yes,” he replied, “there’s been an epidemic of robbery with the dull times—people who want to collect their burglary insurance, I guess.”
“But,” objected Kennedy, “Schloss carried so little.”
“Well, there was the Hale Protection. How about that?”
Craig looked up quickly, unruffled by the patronizing air of the professional toward the amateur detective.
“What is your theory?” he asked. “Do you think he robbed himself?”
Winters shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been interested in Schloss for some time,” he said enigmatically. “He has had some pretty swell customers. I’ll keep you wised up, if anything happens,” he added in a burst of graciousness, walking off.
On the way to the subway, we paused again to see McLear.