“I’m—all right now,” he gasped.
“Tell us!”
“I—I looked around after you went upstairs—then bent over the stove to arrange the pots. Something smashed me on the head—that’s all I know. I think somebody grabbed me by the coat collar as I started to fall. I woke up and found myself on the floor—and tried to call the boss.”
“That’s all?” demanded Riley.
“Y-yes.”
Detective Riley took charge in this emergency without as much as mentioning the matter to Roger Verbeck. He ran to the rear door and jerked it open, observed that the snow was still innocent of footprints, then put a police whistle to his lips and blew a vigorous blast.
The sergeant came running, one of the men with him.
“Bring your men in closer and watch all sides of the house!” Riley commanded. “Watch the roof, too, particularly the mouth of the chimney!”
The sergeant turned away, shouting his orders. Riley slammed the door shut and whirled toward the stove.
“Into the other room, Roger, and watch the stairs—and have your automatic ready,” he said. “In the chimney is the only place a man could be to pull off these stunts, and if he’s in the chimney he’s going to be smoked out!”