Elaine did not answer.  She had eyes or ears for nothing now in the melee but Kennedy.

. . . . . . . .

Events were moving rapidly.

The limousine had been standing innocently enough at the curb near the corner, with the taxicab close behind it.

Less than ten minutes after they had entered, three well-dressed men came out of the vacant shop, apparently from the tailor’s above, and climbed leisurely into their car.

As the last one entered, he half turned to the taxicab driver, hiding from passers-by the sign of the Clutching Hand which the taxicab driver returned, in the same manner.  Then the big car whirled up the avenue.

All this we learned later from a street sweeper who was at work nearby.

Down below, while the police and detectives were putting out the fire, Kennedy was examining the wall of the cellar, looking for the spot where the crooks had escaped.

“A secret door!” he exclaimed, as he paused after tapping along the wall to determine its character.  “You can see how the force of the explosion has loosened it.”

Sure enough, when he pointed it out to us, it was plainly visible.  One of the detectives picked up a crowbar and others, still with the hastily selected implements they had seized to fight the fire, started in to pry it open.

As it yielded, Kennedy pushed his way through.  Elaine, always utterly fearless, followed.  Then the rest of us went through.

There seemed to be nothing, however, that would help us in the cellar next door, and Kennedy mounted the steps of a stairway in the rear.

The stairway led to a sort of storeroom, full of barrels and boxes, but otherwise characterless.  When I arrived Kennedy was gingerly holding up the dusters which the crooks had worn.

“We’re on the right trail,” commented Elaine as he showed them to her, “but where do you suppose the owners are?”

Craig shrugged his shoulders and gave a quick look about.  “Evidently they came in from and went away by the street,” he observed, hurrying to the door, followed by Elaine.

On the sidewalk, he gazed up the avenue, then catching sight of the street cleaner, called to him.

“Yes, sir,” replied the man, stolidly looking up from his work.  “I see three gentlemen come out and get into an automobile.”

“Which way did they go?” asked Kennedy.

For answer the man jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction uptown.

“Did you notice the number of the car?” asked Craig eagerly.

The man shrugged his shoulders blankly.

With keen glance, Kennedy strained his eyes.  Far up the avenue, he could descry the car threading its way in and out among the others, just about disappearing.

A moment later Craig caught sight of the vacant taxicab and crooked his finger at the driver, who answered promptly by cranking his engine.