“Reardon,” he said, hurriedly, and in a low voice, “this man is crazy. I want you to keep out of sight but follow us. When you see us go into a house, call up the Marlborough and tell a Mr. Varley there to come up right away. Then stand guard at the door until I turn this man over to you to be sent back to the asylum he escaped from.”
“All right,” said Reardon, who had been too long on the force to be surprised at anything.
A few minutes’ walk brought Joe and Tabbs to a comfortable old-fashioned boarding house.
“Here we are,” the crazy man said, and led the way to a large room on the second floor. Joe noted in a corner a large valise with Tabbs’ initials on it.
They sat down and chatted about various things, and except for an occasional foolish remark that had no bearing on the subject, Joe would not have known that he was talking to a lunatic. Tabbs had evidently been a man of keen intelligence and wide observation. Joe kept leading him on, trying desperately to kill time till Reggie should arrive.
“If you’re rested enough now, we’ll go out and finish that game of tag,” Tabbs had just remarked, when a taxi whirled up to the door. Joe flung open the door of the room and Reggie came flying up the stairs and dashed in, followed by Reardon, who carefully closed the door and put his broad shoulders against it.
Tabbs looked in surprise at this sudden invasion of his rooms. Then he recognized Reggie and smiled genially.
“How do you do, Mr. Varley?” he said.
“Where are my securities?” demanded Reggie, breathless with excitement.
“Your securities?” repeated Tabbs. “Let me see. Perhaps I have them over here.”