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of the door； which swung inward； and he had made his escape into the
bedroom； leaving Kent staring into dark； empty space。
Gathering his wits together Kent hurried into the bedroom … it was
empty； so also was the bathroom opening from it。 From there Kent made
the rounds of the apartment； switching on the light until the place was
ablaze； but in spite of his minute search of closets and under beds and
behind furniture he could find no trace of his late adversary。 Kent
stopped long enough in the pantry to refresh himself with a glass of water；
then he returned to the living room and sat down in an arm chair by the
window。 He wanted time to think。
How had the man vanished so utterly； leaving no trace behind in the
apartment？ The window in Rochester's room was locked on the inside；
in fact； all the apartment windows were securely fastened； he had found on
his tour of inspection； the only one not locked was the oval； swinging
window high up in the side wall of the bathroom； only a child could
squeeze through it； Kent decided。 The window looked into a well formed
by the wings of the apartment house； and had a sheer drop of fifty feet to
the ground below。 But for his unfortunate luck in backing the man
against the bedroom door instead of the wall he would not have escaped；
but how had the man realized so instantly that he was against a door in the
pitch darkness？ It certainly showed familiarity with his surroundings。 Kent
sat upright as an idea flashed through his brain … was the man Philip
Rochester？
Kent scouted the idea but it persisted。 Suppose it had been Philip
Rochester awakened from a drunken slumber by his entrance in the dark；
if so； nothing more likely than that he had mistaken him； Kent； for a
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THE RED SEAL
burglar and sprung at him。 But why had he disappeared without
revealing his identity to Kent？ Surely the same reason worked both ways
… the man who had wrestled with him was as unaware of Kent's identity as
Kent was of his … they had fought in the dark and in silence。
Kent laughed aloud。 The situation had its amusing side； then； as
recollection came of the scene in the bank that morning； his mirth changed
to grim seriousness。 At his earnest solicitation and backed by Benjamin
Clymer's endorsement of his plan； Colonel McIntyre had agreed to give
him until Saturday night to locate the missing securities； if he failed； then
the colonel proposed placing the affair in the hands of the authorities。
Kent's firm mouth settled into dogged lines at the thought； such a
procedure meant besmirching Jimmie Turnbull's name； let the public get
the slightest inkling that the bank cashier was suspected of forgery and
there would be the devil to pay。 Kent was determined to protect the
honor of his dead friend； and to aid Helen McIntyre in her investigation of
his sudden death。
Jimmie Turnbull had been the soul of honor； that he had ever stooped
to forgery was unbelievable。 There was some explanation favorable to
him … there must be。 Kent's clenched fist struck the arm of his； chair a
vigorous blow and he leapt to his feet。 Wasting no further time on
speculation； he commenced a systematic search of the apartment；
replacing each chair and table as well as the rugs which had been over…
turned in his recent tussle； after which he tried the drawers of Jimmie's
desk。 They were unlocked。 A careful search brought nothing to light
but receipted bills； some loose change； old dinner cards； theater programs；
tea invitations； and several packages of cigarettes。
Turning from the desk Kent walked over to the table which he knew
was Philip Rochester's property； he recalled having once seen Jimmie
place some papers there by mistake； having done so once； the mistake
might have occurred again。 Taking out his partner's bunch of keys； he
soon found one that fitted and opened the drawers。 He had half
completed his task； without finding any clew to the missing securities；
when he was interrupted by the sound of the opening of the front door； and
had but time to slam the drawers shut and pocket the keys when the night
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THE RED SEAL
clerk of the hotel stepped inside the apartment and； closely followed by a
sandy…haired man； walked into the living room。 He halted abruptly at
sight of Kent。
〃Good evening； Mr。 Kent；〃 he exclaimed； and took in at a glance the
orderly arrangement of the room。 〃Pardon my unceremonious entrance；
but I had no idea you were here； sir； we received a telephone message that
a burglar had broken in here。〃
〃You did！〃 Kent stared at him。 Was he right； after all； in his
conjecture； had the man been Philip Rochester？ It would seem so； for
who else； after taking refuge elsewhere； would have telephoned a warning
of burglars to the hotel office？ 〃Have you any idea who sent the message；
Mr。 Stuart？〃
〃I have not； it was an out…side call …〃 Stuart turned to his companion。
〃Sorry I brought you here on an idiotic chase； Mr。 Ferguson。〃
〃That's all right；〃 responded the detective good naturedly。 〃Would
you like me to look through the apartment just to see if any one really is
concealed on the premises； Mr。 Kent？〃 he asked； and added quickly；
seeing Kent hesitate； 〃I am from the central office； Mr。 Stuart can vouch
for me。〃
Kent's hesitation vanished。 〃I'd be obliged if you would； Ferguson。〃
As he spoke he led the way to Rochester's bedroom。 〃Come with us；
Stuart；〃 as the clerk loitered behind。
〃Guess not； sir； I'm needed down at the desk； we are short…handed to…
night。 Let me know how the hunt turns out；〃 and he stepped into the
vestibule。 〃Good night。〃
〃Good night；〃 called Kent； and he accompanied Ferguson as far as the
bathroom door； then returned to his inspection of Rochester