“When,” supplemented Harleston, “it has been carelessly lost in a cab.”

“Just so.  Therefore—­”

“I repeat that I have not got the articles,” said Harleston, a bit wearily, “nor are they in my apartment.  You have been misinformed.  I find I am getting drowsy—­this thing is not as absorbing as I had thought it would be.  With your permission I’ll drop off to sleep; you’re welcome to continue the search.  Make yourselves perfectly at home, sirs.”  He lay back and drew up the sheet.  “Just pull the door shut when you depart, please,” he said, and closed his eyes.

“You’re a queer chap,” remarked Sparrow, pausing in his search and surveying Harleston with a puzzled smile.  “One would suppose you’re used to receiving interruptions at such hours for such purposes.”

“I try never to be surprised at anything however outre,” Harleston explained.  “Good-night.”

The two men looked at the recumbent figure and then at each other and laughed.

“He acts the part,” said the elder.  “Have you found anything?”

“Nothing!  It’s not in the safe nor the writing-table—­nor anywhere else that is reasonable.  I’ve been through everything and there’s nothing doing.”

“You’re not going?” Harleston remarked.

“You’re asleep, Mr. Harleston!” Marston reminded.  “The letter is here:  we’ve simply got to find it.”

“A letter is easy to conceal,” the younger replied.  “There’s nothing but to overturn everything in the place—­and so on; and that will require a day.”

“So that you replace things, I’ve not the slightest objection,” Harleston interjected.  “Bang away, sirs, bang away!  Anything to relieve me from suspicion.”

“It prevents him from sleeping!” Sparrow laughed.

“Also yourselves,” Harleston supplemented.  “However, you for it, remembering that cock-crow comes earlier now than in December, and the people too are up betimes.  You risk interruption, I fear, from my solicitous friends.”

And even as he spoke the corridor door opened and a man stepped in.

From where he lay, Harleston could see him; the others could not.

“’Pon my soul, I’m popular this morning!” Harleston remarked, sitting up.

Instantly the new-comer covered him with his revolver.

“What did you say?” Sparrow inquired from the sitting-room, just as the stranger appeared around the corner.

Like a flash, the latter’s revolver shifted to him.

“Easy there!” said he.

Sparrow sprang up—­then he laughed.

“Easy yourself!” said he.  “Marston, let this gentleman see your hand.”

Marston came slowly forward until he stood a little behind but sufficiently in view to enable the stranger to see that he himself was covered by an automatic.

“For heaven’s sake, Crenshaw,” said Sparrow, “don’t let us get to shooting here!  If you wing me, Marston will wing you, and we’ll only stir up a mess for ourselves.”