"Go
on down, and don't let any one else come up, for Mr. Greenough
doesn't want company."
As the car slid down, Shirley fumbled along the familiar hall to
the iron stairs which led to the roof of the building. Up these
he hurried, thence out upon the roof. It was a matter of only
four minutes before he had crossed to the next apartment
building, opened the door of the roof-entry, found the stairs to
the ninth floor, and taken this elevator to the street.
He walked out of the building, and turned toward Central Park
West, to slyly observe the entrance of the building where waited
the faithful hansom Jehu. A young man was in conversation with
the driver, and the big automobile could be seen on the other
side of the street awaiting further developments.
"He has a long vigil there," laughed Shirley. "Now, for the real
address. I think I lost the hounds for this time."
Another vehicle took him through the Park to the darkened mansion
of the Van Clefts'. Here, Shirley's card brought a quick
response from the surprised son of the dead millionaire.
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