“From your room, sir. Before we could act, the door of your room opened. The ray of a flashlight swept down the hall, then disappeared.
“But, as chance would have it, the man who held the light must have seen us. We dashed forward. He gained the stairs ahead of us. I switched on the lights when we reached the first floor.
“The man had disappeared; but a few moments later, we heard a noise in the back hallway. We ran there and found the little window open. The man had escaped!”
“What did you do then?”
“I ran out through the front door. I saw a policeman passing. He went through the house with Oscar, after ordering me to call the police station. The patrol came and several policemen joined us. We could find no trace of the man.”
Willis finished his discourse and waited for comment from Marchand. The old man still stared at Oscar.
Then, suddenly, his gaze turned to Paget.
The man in evening clothes appeared to be indifferent to the conversation. When Marchand looked at him, he was inserting a new cigarette in the end of the fancy holder.
“What do you know about the burglary, Paget?” questioned Marchand.
“Not very much, Mister Marchand,” replied the man. He paused to light his cigarette. “I was driving by that evening. I often come down Eighty-first Street on my way home.