This time, as the door opened, it was
Thomas, Bennett's faithless valet, who entered.
"Say," blurted out the informer, "do you know Kennedy and Jameson
are back?"
"Back?" cried the crooks.
"Yes,--they didn't go. Changed clothes with the porters. I just
heard Miss Dodge telling Mr. Bennett."
Clutching Hand eyed him keenly, then seemed to burst into an
ungovernable fury.
Quickly he began volleying orders at the valet and the others.
Then, with the secretary and two of the other crooks he left by
another door from that by which he had sent the valet forth.
. . . . . . . .
Leaving the undertaker's, Kennedy and I made our way, keeping off
thoroughfares, to police headquarters, where, after making
ourselves known, Craig made arrangements for a raid on the house
across the street from the laboratory where we had seen the opera
glass reflection.
Then, as secretly as we had come, we went out again, letting
ourselves into the laboratory, stealthily looking up and down the
street. We entered by a basement door, which Kennedy carefully
locked again.
No sooner had we disappeared than one of the Clutching Hand's
spies who had been watching behind a barrel of rubbish gave the
signal of the hand down the street to a confederate and, going to
the door, entered by means of a skeleton key.
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