“Secret service men after him?” muttered Thorsensel, incredulously. “What's the angle, Zimmerlein,—what's the angle? You are supposed to be on the inside up there. What do you know about this?”
“I am completely in the dark. I can't understand it, Thorsensel. It—are you sure, Scarf?”
“Absolutely. They got Blechter,—yanked him off the taxi when he stopped around in the next block, according to plans. He was to wait for us there,—fixing his engine as a blind,—stalling for time. He put up a fight,—poor fool. They got him just the same.”
“Will he squeal?” demanded Zimmerlein, pacing the floor.
“You ought to know. He's your protégé,” said Scarf succinctly.
“Better dead than alive, I'd say,” said Thorsensel unfeelingly. “Go on.”
“Well, from all I could learn, two of them waited outside the building and two of 'em were inside—I don't know just where. I think one of them was running the front elevator. All I know is that Ruddy and I barely had time to get out of the window and onto a little balcony and drop down to the one below, before they smashed in the door. Twelve foot drop, too,—and the balcony wasn't more than three feet wide. If we'd missed—Lord!”
“You were in his room?” cried Thorsensel.
“Sure. We got in through the building next door, sneaked up ten flights of stairs to the top. Got out on the roof through the 'dog-house,' and dropped down to the other roof. Sort of penthouse arrangement up there. Very simple after that. We had his apartment pretty well marked. Ninth floor front. It's closed except when he comes up occasionally from camp for a night or two. Family in the South somewhere, servants dismissed. We didn't waste any time. Had it all doped out. Went to his door and rang the bell. Pretty soon he came and opened it and asked what we wanted. We told him right off the reel that we were in the secret service and had to have a talk with him at once about a certain party he knows. He told us to go to hell. Then I showed him my badge and mentioned a name that bowled him over. He said: 'My God!' and drew back into the room. We went in and closed the door.
“I asked him first if there was anybody in the apartment—anybody that would be likely to hear our conversation. He said he was alone,—his people were out of town for the winter. Ruddy asked him point blank just what he knew about a certain party,—all of it. He came back with a question. 'Has there been an arrest?' 'Yes,' says I. He sat down, limp as a rag. 'My God, it's terrible—horrible,' he says. 'Who put you wise? How much is actually known?' That was enough for Ruddy. He stuck the gun under his ear and let him have it. He never knew what hit him. Ruddy dropped the revolver on the floor beside the chair,—just where he would have dropped it himself,—and then we started out to see if we could find anything in the apartment that oughtn't to be lying around loose. I forgot to say there was a Maxim silencer on the gun. We had just entered the first bed-room when his door bell rang. Two hearts stopped beating right there and then. For a minute we were paralysed. Then there was pounding on the door, and we heard some one say, 'Open up, or we 'll smash it in!'