“This fellow live across the way?”
“That's the odd part of it. No, he doesn't.”
“Then what was he doing there?”
“Probably awaiting the return of the real tenant who hasn't returned up to this hour”—with an oblique glance at the squat man.
“Kind o' queer. Say, you stay here and watch the lady while I scout round.”
The squat man nodded and leaned over the foot of the bed. The policeman stalked out.
“I was in the kitchen,” said Kitty, confidingly. “I saw shadows on the window curtain. It did not look right. So I started to inquire and almost bumped into two men leaving the apartment. They took to their heels when they saw me.”
Again the squat man nodded. He appeared to be a good listener.
“Where were you when we crossed the fire escape?”
“In the yard on the other side of the fence.” There was reluctance in the guttural voice.