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Updated: May 19, 2025
An hour later, having parted with Detective Jim Farland, Sidney Prale walked slowly up Fifth Avenue, determined to go to his hotel suite and rest for the remainder of the evening. His conversation and short visit with Farland had put him in a better humor. There was no mistaking the quality of Farland's friendship.
"You look like a madman!" Lerton said. "Why on earth are you looking at me like that? You look as if you were ill " The expression in Farland's face made him stop, and he appeared to be a bit disconcerted. "Why did you kill Rufus Shepley?" Jim Farland demanded suddenly in a voice that seemed to sting. Lerton's face went white for an instant. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.
Jim Farland had given him a badge to be used if he was questioned by a police officer, and he was to say that he was an operative attached to Farland's office. Murk discharged the taxi at the proper corner, touched match to cigarette, and walked slowly down the street toward the apartment house where Kate Gilbert lived with her father and her maid.
Farland's stenographer informed him that the detective had not been there during the morning, though there was some business that needed his attention. Then Prale got Farland's residence on the telephone, and the detective's wife answered the call. Prale gave his name, and asked where Jim could be found. "That is more than I can tell, Mr. Prale," Mrs. Farland said.
After Farland's other visit, the youth had decided to be a detective when he grew up. "I am to go right in important business," Farland said. "Never mind announcing me." The willing boy opened the gate, and Farland hurried across to the door of the private office.
Murk, having done all the work that there was to do, spent the most of his time looking from the window at the busy, fashionable avenue, and glancing now and then at Prale as if wishing to anticipate his wishes and save him the trouble of voicing them. Prale had luncheon served in the suite, and then he stepped to the telephone and called Jim Farland's office.
It was half an hour later before the guard was changed and Farland's friend hurried away, warning him with a glance that he should not make a move too soon. He had declined to meet the detective the following day and get the few dollars still due him; he would rather use what he already had in getting out of town, he had said. Farland made no attempt to talk with the new guard.
You may use the telephone if you wish, Mr. Prale." Prale hurried to the telephone, called Jim Farland's office, and was informed that Farland had not been there, and that the girl in charge did not know where he was, or what he was doing, or when he would return. Prale left instructions for Farland and went back to the desk.
He found that he was beside a road in which stood an automobile. Two of the men lifted him, tossed him inside the machine, and then got in themselves. The driver started the engine, threw in the clutch, and soon the car was being driven at a furious pace along the winding road. "Look around all you want to!" one of Farland's captors growled at him.
An imp of an office boy took in his card. "Mr. Lerton will see you in ten minutes, sir," the returning boy announced. Farland touched match to another cigar. He was a little surprised that Lerton had sent out that message. Lerton knew Farland, as Sidney Prale had known him in the old days. He knew Farland's business, and he knew that the detective and Prale were firm friends.
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