No more than an hour had elapsed since Grantley and Siebold had alighted from the taxi in Harlem. Surely they could not have put any great distance between their pursuers and themselves. Besides, Patsy and Ida Jones were doubtless already at work at the scene of their disappearance.
Nick had barely hung up the receiver before the phone bell rang. As none of the servants was at hand, the detective answered it. He was not surprised to recognize Chick’s voice on the wire.
“Hello, Chick!” he said. “What’s the word?”
“The roosts are empty, chief,” was the disappointed answer. “I’m telephoning from Grantley’s house now. I found it empty and broke in. The people next door tell me that Hoff and the nurse skipped out in another taxi not more than ten minutes after Mr. Baldwin was taken away.”
“Which way did they go?”
“North, curiously enough—in the opposite direction from that taken by the others.”
“Have you found out whether the car came from the same garage?”
“I just telephoned. The garage people say they sent only one car to this address this morning.”
“Well, phone a description of the German and Miss Rawlinson down to police headquarters. I’ve already notified Deputy Commissioner Leith, and the hunt is on in earnest. Then try to find the garage. Call up my house every half hour or so. I may want you.”
The detective was about to leave the Baldwin residence when he was informed that a messenger had just brought him a note, directed in care of Baldwin’s secretary, and had left without waiting for an answer.