Lawrence agreed to this, and dropping Mr. Ridgeway went on to his apartment, where it took him about five minutes to pack. He was back at the house in no time, and soon in bed.
Little did either of them dream of the adventures befalling O’Brien. O’Brien, having read the letter of instructions from Mr. Ridgeway, buttoned the letter in an inside pocket. He then changed his coat and putting on a cap, took a car and went within walking distance of the disreputable flat building which housed the gang. O’Brien was going to pin all his hopes on what he would find in their rooms. He had changed his coat and had slung a small packet over his shoulder.
O’Brien was now a plumber! He entered the flat whistling, walked up an interminable number of stairs to the top floor, where Lawrence had tracked the two men. Here the whistling which had grown very low ceased entirely as O’Brien, putting an ear to the door, listened for sounds from within. Hearing nothing, he resumed the whistle and rapped gaily on the panel. There was no response and O’Brien repeated the knock. It was not late, but he feared that one or more of the gang might have taken that night of all nights to get some sleep. The silence continuing, O’Brien cast a keen glance around the small and sordid hallway.
Once more O’Brien turned his attention to the door. He slipped a skeleton key from his pocket and noiselessly tried it. The door opened under his touch. O’Brien’s manner changed. He was no longer the merry-eyed plumber, whistling as he came in a hurry call to tighten a leaky gas jet that threatened to snuff out some worthy without whom the country could doubtless stagger along. He became keen eyed and cat like. Slipping in, he closed and locked the door.
The room in which he stood had a ceiling cut into many angles and irregularities, and the front part of it was the inside of a tower or turret which formed the top ornamentation of the building. This part of the room alone had a flat ceiling, and in the center of it was something that looked like a small trap door. That too looked unused. In the back part of the room was a door leading into a back room. Out of this still another door opened into a dark passageway, and there was a steep flight of stairs. At the sight of the stairs O’Brien nodded. He meant to use those himself if he happened to be surprised while on his tour of inspection. He commenced to be sorry that he had not brought another detective with him. But hurrying back to the front room he commenced a careful search for the papers he was hoping to discover. There were but few places to put anything, and O’Brien’s hopes went steadily down as he looked. All over the wall loose plaster hung or crumbled off as he brushed against it. He finished with the front room and went carefully over the back room, where two cots and a deal table comprised the furnishings.
On the floor beside one of the cots stood a bottle almost full, and an empty glass. O’Brien picked up the bottle and smelled of it.
“The proper stuff for a nightcap,” he said to himself and taking a small bottle out of his pocket, shook the contents into the larger bottle. “A druggist for a brother is a handy thing,” he chuckled as he returned to the front room.
He stood irresolute for a moment, then looked up at the small square trap above him. A rickety table stood near one of the windows, and setting it under the trap he leaped lightly to its soiled top. The ceiling was very high, but he managed to reach up and shove the trap aside, and catching the ledge swung himself up.
O’Brien was no fairy, and it was a tight squeeze, but he wriggled through with no greater damage than a torn coat and a barked knuckle. Using his flashlight, he saw that he was in a small circular space about twelve feet across. The top was cone shape, and there was no floor. Dust lay inches deep on the rafters where he sat uncomfortably. Then he saw something that caused his heart to leap delightedly. Directly beside him, tied with a cord and covered with broken seals, lay a packet of papers. O’Brien knew that his hunt had not been in vain. Buttoning the papers carefully inside his coat, he put a leg down through the trap when a sound below caused him to drag it quickly back and clap the trap over in its place.
A key grated in the lock. Someone was coming.