“There’s the professor.”
“But the other ... the man in the house ... now....”
“Stay with the professor. Don’t leave him. This looks serious.”
Without waiting for the coat she held out to him, he rushed into the rain and down the long steep hill, splashing through water and mud. In a few minutes, drenched and breathless, he reached the house. He mounted the stairs softly, pistol in hand. Whoever had entered had left the door on the latch. He burst into the room.
A man who had been bending over the steel safe rose and swung around.
“Don’t shoot,” he said sharply. He stood there, erect, composed, smiling.
“Krantz!”
“Precisely. What a pity you did not come ten minutes later. Then I should have finished my investigations.”
“Your burglary, you mean. I’ve a good mind to call the police.”
“My dear man, I am the police.”