"What is it?" he asked.
"A cigarette butt," was the reply; "interesting only because it is the second one of the same kind I have found to-night."
Presently, when he announced that he had finished, Lynden said it had fallen to them to turn out the lights and lock the doors, as the negro janitor was too frightened to venture into the second story that night. This was soon accomplished, and the two had turned to depart, when both abruptly stopped. A light had flashed forth through the ground glass of Room 6.
"What room is that?" asked Converse; for the door was bare of significance excepting for the single figure "6," now standing out boldly against the light behind.
"The record and abstract room of the Guaranty Trust Company," was the reply. "He must have come in while you were in the light-well."
"He? Who?" Converse queried bluntly.
Both were standing as they had paused when the light first surprised them, and Lynden turned to his interlocutor with some surprise at the quickening eagerness of his tone, but he answered merely:
"Slade,—William Slade; he prepares the company's abstracts of title, you know."
Converse's manner became completely impersonal again. "Can you find some excuse for knocking?" he asked. "Would you mind doing so? I should like to have a glimpse of him."
"Not at all; if I can make him hear. He's quite deaf."