Inside all was dark, still.
“Who’s there?” he called, and listening, heard no sound.
His fingers found the light switch. The room sprang into brightness.
“There’s a chair upset,” Chick called out. “I know you’re in here. Come out!”
Silence met his demand.
With quiet feet he advanced, past an overturned wastebasket, past the filing cabinets. They had been tampered with—he saw that as he passed.
In a corner was a wash basin, marble, on a stand, and before it was a Japanese screen to conceal those who chose to wash.
Tiptoeing, Chick advanced close to the screen.
Unexpectedly it was thrust over onto him. He had half expected the maneuver, and he leaped sidewise and backward, just escaping the edge of the light frame and the entangling silk stretched over it.
A tall, thin, dark-haired, reddish, copper-colored youth leaped past him. Caught off balance, it took Chick half a second to right himself. Then he was in pursuit, screaming as he ran. The other was fleeter, longer-legged. He seemed to have prepared a plan. Chick heard feet on the tower stairway, thudding down to his summons. They might intercept the escaping youth—an Indian, Chick felt assured at that. He was the faster of the pair, and Chick, for all his best effort, could not get a grip on the flying coat.