“Certainly not,” Arnold answered.  “I have an attic on the other side of the landing there, and I have made friends with the girl.  My interest in Isaac Lalonde is simply because she is his niece.  Can you tell me what the charge is against him?”

“We believe him to be one of a very dangerous gang of criminals,” the sergeant replied.  “I can’t tell you more than that.  If you take my advice, sir,” he continued, civilly, “you will have as little as possible to do with either the man or the girl.  There’s no doubt about the man’s character, and birds of a feather generally flock together.”

“I am perfectly certain,” Arnold declared, vigorously, “that if there has been anything irregular in her uncle’s life, Miss Lalonde knew nothing of it.  We both knew that he talked wildly, but, for the rest, his doings have been as much a mystery to her as to me.”

The sergeant was summoned by one of his subordinates.  The two men stood whispering together for a few moments.  He turned finally toward Arnold.

“I shall have to ask you to leave us now, sir,” he said civilly.

“There’s nothing more you can tell me about this affair, I suppose?” Arnold asked.

The sergeant shook his head.

“You will hear all about it later on, sir.”

Arnold turned reluctantly back to his own room, where Ruth, was anxiously waiting.  He closed the door carefully behind him.

“Isaac has escaped,” he announced, “and no one was hurt.”

She drew a little sigh of immense relief.

“Did they tell you what the charge was?”

“Not definitely,” he replied.  “So far as I could make out from what the sergeant said, it was keeping bad company as much as anything.”

“The police are in the rooms now?” she asked.

“Three more of them,” he assented.  “I don’t know what they want but evidently you’ll have to stay here.  Now I’m going to light this spirit-lamp and make some coffee.”

He moved cheerfully about the room, and she watched him all the time with almost pathetic earnestness.  Presently he brought the breakfast things over to her side and sat at the foot of her couch while the water boiled.  He took her hand and held it caressingly.

“I shouldn’t worry about Isaac,” he said.  “I don’t suppose he is really very much mixed up with these fellows.  He’ll have to keep out of the way for a time, that’s all.”

“There were the pistols,” she faltered, doubtfully.

“I expect they saddled him with them because he was the least likely to be suspected,” Arnold suggested.  “There’s the water boiling already.  Now for it.”

He cut some bread and butter and made the coffee.  They ate and drank almost in silence.  Through the open window now the roar of traffic was growing every minute in volume.  Across the bridge the daily stream of men and vehicles had commenced to flow.  Presently he glanced at the clock and, putting down his coffee cup, rose to his feet.