ape. Kirby had studied
the relation of his uncle's apartment to the building opposite. He had
not yet examined it with reference to the adjoining rooms.

"While we're cuttin' trail might as well be thorough," he said to his
friend. "The miscreant that did this killin' might 'a' walked out the
door or he might 'a' come through the window here. If he did that
last, which fork of the road did he take? He could go down the ladder
or swing across to the Wyndham an' slip into the corridor. Let's make
sure we've got all the prospects figured out at that."

Before he had finished the sentence, Lane saw another way of flight.
The apartment in front of Cunningham's was out of reach of the fire
escape. But the nearest window of the one to the rear was closer.
Beneath it ran a stone ledge. An active man could swing himself from
the railing of the platform to the coping and force an entrance into
that apartment through the window.

Kirby glanced up and down the alley. A department store delivery auto
was moving out of sight. Nobody was in the line of vision except an
occasional pedestrian passing on the sidewalk at the entrances to the
alley.

"I'm gonna take a whirl at it," Lane said, nodding toward the window.

"How much do they give for burglary in this state?" asked Sanborn, his
eyes dancing. "I'd kinda hate to see you do twenty years."

"They have to catch the rabbit before they cook it, old-timer. Here
goes. Keep an eye peeled an' gimme the office if any cop shows up."

"Mebbe the lady's at home. I don't allow to rescue you none if she
massacrees you," the world's champion announced, grinning.

"Wrong guess, Cole. The boss of this hacienda is a man, an' he's in
Chicago right now."

"You're the dawg-gonedest go-getter I ever threw in with," Sanborn
admitted. "All right. Go to it. If I gotta go to the calaboose I
gotta go, that's all."

Kirby stepped lightly to the railing, edged far out with his weight on
the ledge, and swung to the window-sill. The sash yielded to the
pressure of his hands and moved up. A moment later he disappeared from
Sanborn's view into the room.

It was the living-room of the apartment into which Lane had stepped.
The walls were papered with blue and the rug was a figured yellow and
blue. The furniture was of fumed oak, the chairs leather-padded.

The self-invited guest met his first surprise on the table. It was
littered with two or three newspapers. The date of the u