“I thought I saw something in the elevator, and as long as you don't know where he is—” said a fireman.
“Well,” said Berry, “if you've got the upper hands of this thing, I'm going to my room a minute.”
Lemuel followed him upstairs, to see if he could find Williams. The steam had ascended and filled the upper halls; little cascades of water poured down the stairs, falling from step to step; the long strips of carpeting in the corridors swam in the deluge which the hose had poured into the building, and a rain of heavy drops burst through the ceilings.
Most of the room-doors stood open, as the people had flung them wide in their rush for life. At the door of Berry's room a figure appeared which he promptly seized by the throat.
“Don't be in a hurry!” he said, as he pushed it into the room. “I want to see you.”
It was Williams.
“I want to see what you've got in your pockets. Hold on to him, Barker.”
Lemuel had no choice. He held Williams by the arms while Berry went through him, as he called the search. He found upon him whatever small articles of value there had been in his room.
The thief submitted without a struggle, without a murmur.
Berry turned scornfully to Lemuel. “This a friend of yours, Mr. Barker?”