“He has said nothing to me about an appointment with any one.”
“See here, watchman, don’t you remember me? I am Frank Merriwell. It was not many months ago that I was here, and upon that occasion a man fell down the elevator shaft and was killed. I think you should recall the affair.”
“I do,” confessed the watchman.
“Then you know that Mr. Keene was in my employ at that time. I must see him again on a most important affair. Here, watchman, is something for you. I shall consider it a favor if you permit me to proceed to Mr. Keene’s office.”
As Merry spoke he pressed some money into the Watchman’s hand. The man seemed to hesitate, but finally said:
“It’s against orders, but I will chance it. I may get into trouble.”
“You will not,” assured Frank.
The watchman escorted Merry up several flights of Stairs and finally paused before the door of the detective’s rooms. There he gave a peculiar knock, with the result that the outer door was finally opened.
The man who opened it was neither Scott nor Keene, but the watchman knew him, and said:
“Jones, here is a gentleman to see Mr. Keene on important business. It’s all right, I am sure.”