Again came the clerk's reply.
"There's no one in them boxes, Mister. I haven't sold a call in haf an hour," he said with a smile that lent no softening to his watchful eyes. He stooped and released a series of levers. "Get a peek for yourselves, gents."
Each door was set ajar and the stranger moved swiftly across and flung them wide open in rapid succession. The boxes were empty. At "No. 1" he paused considering. Then he passed within. And, for a few moments, stood examining the instrument, which was no different from any other 'phone in any other hotel in the city.
After the examination the two men passed out of the room and the Englishman watched the smiling contempt that promptly lit the eyes of the clerk as he looked after them.
Outside on the landing Saney led the way. Nor did the two men speak until they had passed down the stairs and out into the street.
"Well?"
Saney spoke with an ironical smile lighting his genial eyes.
"You'll search the place?" the other suggested.
Saney shrugged.
"If you feel that way. But it's useless," he said. "I said that to you before. You've tracked this feller to this city. You've tracked him to Mallard's. It's taken you nearly two years. We've all been out after him, and failed. You've succeeded in hunting him down to Mallard's. Well, I'd say your work's only just started. Maybe he's there right now. If we searched with a hundred men we couldn't exhaust that darn gopher nest. If we blocked every outlet we know and don't know, he could still sit tight and laff at us. No. We need to start right in again. So long as he's got the stuff, and hangs to Mallard's, he's safe."