“What for?” they chorused.
“To locate Philip Rochester,” and waiting for no answer Kent bolted out of the office.
CHAPTER XV. WHEN THE LIGHT FAILED
The city lights were springing up block after block along Pennsylvania Avenue as Detective Ferguson left that busy thoroughfare and hurried to the Saratoga. He stepped inside the lobby of the apartment house a full minute before his appointment with its manager, and went at once to look him up. Before he could carry out his purpose he was joined by Harry Kent.
“Finley had to go out,” the latter explained. “I told him I would go up to Rochester's apartment with you.”
Ferguson thoughtfully caressed his clean-shaven jaw for a second, then came to a rapid decision.
“Lead the way, sir,” he said. “I'll follow.” Kent found him a silent companion while in the elevator and when walking down the corridor to Rochester's apartment, but once inside the living room, with the outer door tightly closed, Ferguson tossed down his hat and his whole demeanor changed.
“Sit down, Mr. Kent.” He selected a chair near Rochester's desk for himself, as Kent found another. “Let's thrash this thing out; are you working with me or against me?”
“Why do you ask?” Kent's surprise at the question was evident.