“The operator came into the building when the porter was busy—working the lift probably. He made his way to the roof, carrying the rope and the basket. Somebody in the street fixed the cylinders in the basket, which the man hauled to the roof one by one. It was dead easy, but ingenious. They must have made a pretty careful survey beforehand, or they wouldn’t have known which chimney led to your room.”
They returned to the flat, and for once Joshua Broad was serious.
“Fortunately, my servant is on a holiday,” he said, “or he would have been in heaven!”
“I hope so,” responded Elk piously.
The sun was tipping the roofs of the houses when he finally left, a sleepy and a baffled man. He heard the sound of boisterous voices before he reached the vestibule. A big car stood at the entrance of the flats, and, seated at the wheel, was a young man in evening dress. By him sat Lew Brady, and on the pavement was a girl in evening finery.
“A jolly evening, eh, Lola! When I get going, I’m a mover, eh?”
Ray Bennett’s voice was thick and unsteady. He had been drinking—was within measurable distance of being drunk.
With a yell he recognized the detective as he came into the street.
“Why, it’s old Elk—the Elk of Elks! Greetings, most noble copper! Lola, meet Elky of Elksburg, the Sherlock of Fact, the Sleuth——”
“Shut up!” hissed the savage-voiced Lew Brady in his ear, but Ray was in too exalted a mood to be silenced.