The thought electrified him and he went out, locking his door behind him. There was an elevator. "Top," the note had said. He took the lift and went to the topmost floor, stealing down the corridors on a voyage of discovery, and feeling like a thief, or a detective. But the rooms were all occupied by tailors or the like, and every door stood hospitably open. Surely he could not reasonably disturb these people and search their premises without a warrant.
He turned and went down again, with the happy inspiration to telephone to the chief of police and to Bailey Armstrong.
"If you could come right here," he said to the former, "I can not only give you some important information, but give you an idea of this locality which you may not possess. For I have a positive clue."
"I'll be with you in fifteen minutes," replied the official, who cared not a rap for the dignity of his position.
To Bailey, Allingham only said: "Come down here at once, I've something definite and important to tell you and to show you. But not a word over the telephone."
In five minutes Bailey came in, breathless. "What is it?" he demanded.
"Read this," and Allingham put the scrap of paper in his hands and related the story of its anchorage on his desk after days of weary wandering. Before the tale was fairly unfolded, the chief of police appeared and it had to be told all over again.
"Now," said Allingham, when he had finished, "what is the first and quickest thing to be done?"
"Organize," answered the chief. "Get a few men together and go through this section of the town thoroughly. Strange we haven't done more right here. We've gone on the theory that they were in the suburbs or in some other town."
"And probably they have been right under our noses, all the time," said Bailey.