“Beat it, my man!” Harleston snapped. “None of you are of much success as burglars; you’re not familiar with the trade. You’re novices, rank novices. Also myself. I’ll give you until I count five, Crenshaw, to make your adieux. One ... two ... No need for you two to hurry away—the time limit applies only to Mr. Crenshaw.”
“It’s quite time we were going, Mr. Harleston,” Marston answered. “Good-night, sir—and pleasant dreams. Come on, Crenshaw.”
“Three ... four ...”
Crenshaw made a gesture of final threat.
“Meddler!” he exclaimed. Then he followed the other two.
IV—Crenshaw
Harleston lay for a few minutes, brows drawn in thought; then he arose, crossed to the telephone, and took down the receiver.
“Good-morning, Miss Williams,” he said. “Has it been a long night?”
“Pretty long, Mr. Harleston,” the girl answered. “There hasn’t been a thing doing for two hours.”
“Haven’t three gentlemen just left the building?”