"Next time, you'd better bring your opera-glasses," the reporter suggested, ironically.
"I wonder if it is LaRauche?" said the Chief, thoughtfully.
"It's a man, at any rate," said McGinity. "Looks like he's wearing black trousers and a white shirt. No coat or hat at all. He's got bushy white hair."
"Then it's LaRauche," the Chief exclaimed. "Call to him, and tell him to come back into the house. Say it's no use trying to escape."
McGinity did as the Chief requested, and there came in reply a cackling laugh.
"I heard that," said the Chief. "It's the laugh of a maniac." Then he added quickly: "What's he doing now?"
McGinity did not reply immediately. He had seen something very strange happen. LaRauche had mysteriously disappeared—vanished into the air.
"He's gone!" the reporter cried at last. "Escaped! He just flew off the roof."
The Chief gave a groan of disappointment. "Oh, come back in!" he ordered gruffly. "Don't be funny!"
McGinity came back through the window, his knees a little unsteady. Then he explained what he had seen. LaRauche had floated off the roof, into the air, lightly but swiftly, taking a downward course, and had been swallowed up in the darkness below.