By the time Al had explained the situation so that the clerk understood it, Farley had had ample time to make his escape.
The man was somewhat crestfallen when he realized that he had made a mistake.
"No matter," he said, "the ruffian can't have gotten out. They'd be sure to detain him downstairs."
But, as they learned when they reached the office, Farley had eluded them. He had walked leisurely out, lighting a cigar, apparently in a perfectly easy, unconcerned frame of mind.
Having notified the police of what had occurred, Al returned to his room, and in a few minutes had retired for the night, having first assured himself that there were no other unbidden guests in the apartment.
The next morning he found a note awaiting him in the office. It read as follows:
"You are a lucky youth, but your luck won't last forever. You don't lead a charmed life. I am on my mettle now, and I am going to settle you if I swing for it."
There was no signature, but of course Al knew well enough who the writer of the precious communication was.
He did not feel particularly worried; in fact, he had no time to worry just then, for, as he put the note in his pocket, the morning papers were placed in his hand by the clerk, with the remark:
"Well, young man, you are a corker and no mistake."