“Your man, probably. I heard nothing.”
“My man does not live in. Don’t move.”
He got to his feet without noise, and went to his desk. Opening a drawer he took out an automatic pistol, and went to the door. With a swift movement he flung it open. Outside was darkness. Collins turned on the light and looked around.
“Nothing,” he said. “Must have been my imagination. Hullo, what’s this?”
He stooped down and picked up a piece of paper from the floor.
It was a sheet torn from a pocket book, and he brought it into the room, closing the door carefully.
“Read that,” he said, and for all his coolness there was a tremble in his voice. “You are both on the wrong track. Poor fools,” and that was all.
“Come,” said Collins, incisively. “We must search the flat.”
It did not take long, as the flat was not a large one. There was not a trace of anyone, and the door was fast.
“Well, well, things are getting lively. We have to deal with a pretty customer. We shall have to look out for ourselves.”