Pursuit was useless, now.  All was excitement.  From the street we could hear the clang of engines and trucks arriving and taking their positions, almost as if the fire department had laid out the campaign beforehand for this very fire.

Anyone who had waited a moment or so in the other apartment down the street might have gone downstairs without attracting any attention.  Then he might have disappeared in or mingled with the very crowd on the street which he had caused to gather.  Late as it was, the crowd seemed to spring from nowhere, and to grow momentarily as it had done during the raid on the gambling joint.  It was one of the many interesting night phenomena of New York.

What had been intended to be one of the worst fires and to injure a valuable property of the Warrington estate had, thanks to the prompt action of Garrick, been quickly turned into only a minor affair, at the worst.  The fire had eaten its way into two other rooms of Warrington’s own suite, but there it had been stopped.  The building itself was nearly fireproof, and each suite was a unit so that, to all intents and purposes, it might burn out without injury to others.

Still, it was interesting to watch the skill and intuition of the smoke-eaters as they took in the situation and almost instantly seemed to be able to cope with it.

Sudden and well-planned though the incendiary assault had been, it was not many minutes before it was completely under control.  Men in rubber coats and boots were soon tramping through the water-soaked rooms of Warrington.  Windows were cracked open and the air in the rooms was clearing.

We followed in cautiously after one of the firemen.  Everywhere was the penetrating smell of burnt wood and cloth.  In the corner was the safe, still hot and steaming.  It had stood the strain.  But it showed marks of having been tampered with.

“Somebody used a ‘can-opener’ on it,” commented Garrick, looking at it critically and then ruefully at the charred wreck of his optophone that had tumbled in the ashes of the pile of books under which it had been hidden, “Yes, that was the scheme they must have evolved after their midnight conference,—­a robbery masked by a fire to cover the trail, and perhaps destroy it altogether.”

“If we had only known that,” I agreed, “we might have saved what little there was in that safe for Warrington.  But I guess he didn’t keep much there.”

“No,” answered Garrick, “I don’t think he did.  All I saw was some personal letters and a few things he apparently liked to have around here.  I suppose all the really valuable stuff he has was in a safety-deposit vault somewhere.  There was a packet of—­it’s gone!  What do you think of that?” he exclaimed looking up from the safe to me in surprise.

“Packet of what?” I asked.  “What is gone?”

“Why,” replied Garrick, “I couldn’t help noticing it when I opened the safe before, but Warrington had evidently saved every line and scrap of writing that Violet Winslow had ever given him and it was all in one of the compartments of the safe.  The compartment is empty!”