"Is there anyone on this floor at this time?" I asked the elevator man. "No, sir."
"Or in the building?"
"The watchman."
"Find him. Or, first, telephone to the police station. Then send the watchman here and then go out on the street and try to find a policeman. Bring in anybody who looks equal to breaking in the door. I'll wait here and see that he doesn't get out--if I can prevent it."
The man seemed glad to go, and I took a position at one side of the inner door with my hand on the back of a stout office chair. An unarmed man does feel at a disadvantage before a gun! The very silence seemed full of menace.
In a few minutes there was a sound of running feet in the hall, and the watchman came in.
"He won't be in there by this time," he said at once. "The fire escape runs by the window!" And with the courage of assured safety he opened the door with a pass key. The room was empty, and the window, open to the fire escape, showed that the watchman's surmise was justified. The escape ran down to an alley that opened in turn upon the street. The murderer could have made his descent and joined the theater crowds on the street without the slightest difficulty. He had had at least ten minutes' clear time before we looked vainly out into the night after him.
We were still at the window when the police arrived,--the officer on the beat, whom the elevator man had soon found, and a sergeant with another man from the station. The sergeant took charge.
"Man dead," he said briefly. "And the murderer gone by the window, eh? Tell me what you know about it."
I told him the facts as I have given them above. He lit the gas in the private office and examined the door between the rooms.