He smiled, but the disapproving wrinkle still showed between his eyes.

“I see that you are still determined to hold to your attitude,” he said.  “I am sorry, of course, but then one is called upon at times to do as one thinks best, and I suppose that is what you are doing.”  He turned toward the door, and she arose and touched the bell.  “Good-by.”

“Good-by,” she returned.

He stood for a moment in the doorway regarding her with mingled annoyance and admiration.  As he caught the steps of the approaching servant in the hall, he said: 

“Possibly I can save you some little trouble.  You need not call at the Rangnow Apartments.  Up to last night, Allan Morris had not notified Mr. Tobin as to his new hiding-place.  However, if you feel that you must see him, you can call at my place at this hour on the day after to-morrow.  I am not sure, of course, but it occurs to me that he will be there.”

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SECRET OF THE PORTRAIT

The morning papers had all announced the fact that the detail of police would that day be withdrawn from the scene of the murder in Christie Place.  With them it had been a mere matter-of-fact news item, but with the evening sheets it was different.  They had had time to digest the matter, and their view of the order was one of surprise.  Two or three allowed this feeling to expand itself into headlines of some size; a few also commented on the situation editorially.

Superintendent Weagle had been interviewed.  He stated that he could not be expected to maintain a detail at 478 indefinitely; even with the police withdrawn from within, so he maintained, the place would be as effectually guarded as were other buildings.  What more was required?

Ashton-Kirk read all this with some satisfaction in the late afternoon.

“They have given the thing even more publicity than I had hoped for,” he said, as he helped Pendleton in the details of a rough-looking costume which that worthy was donning.  “It must be a bad day for news, and they have plenty of space.  At any rate, anyone who is at all interested in the fact, is now aware that after six o’clock this evening, 478 Christie Place will be unguarded, except for the regular patrolman.  Of course,” with a glance at Pendleton and another in a mirror at himself, “if a brace of rough-looking characters are hidden away within, there will only be a few who know it.”

He opened a drawer and took out two black shining objects; the short barrels and blocky shapes told Pendleton that they were automatic revolvers.

“They will throw ten slugs as thick as your little finger while you’re winking your eye as many times,” said Ashton-Kirk.

They each slipped one of the squat, formidable weapons into a hip pocket; then they made their way out at the rear of the house.  With the collars of their sack coats turned up and their long visored cloth caps pulled down, they hurried along among the dull-eyed throngs that bartered and quarreled and sought their own advantage.