I ordered the night-watchman to lock the front door and bring everybody in the building here. Now, we better fix the time of this. How long’s he been dead, Doctor?”

“Not more than half an hour,” replied the doctor.

“Humbly begging pardon to intrude,” said Chan. “The homicide occurred presumably at ten twenty.”

“Sure of that?”

“I have not the habit of light speaking. At ten twenty-five we find body, just five minutes after lady on floor above rush in with news of man escaping from this room by fire-escape.”

“Huh. The room seems to have been searched.” Flannery turned to Barry Kirk. “Anything missing?”

“I haven’t had time to investigate,” said Kirk. “If anything has been taken, I fancy it was Sir Frederic’s property.”

“This is your office, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I had made room here for Sir Frederic. He had various papers and that sort of thing.”

“Papers? What was he doing? I thought he’d retired.”

“It seems he was still interested in certain cases, Captain,” Miss Morrow said. “That is one of the points I shall take up with you later.”

“Again interfering with regret,” remarked Chan, “if we do not know what was taken, all same we know what was hunted.”

“You don’t say.” Flannery looked at Chan coldly. “What was that?”

“Sir Frederic English detective, and great one. All English detectives make exhausting records of every case. No question that records of certain case, in which murderer was hotly interested, were sought here.”

“Maybe,” admitted the Captain. “We’ll go over the room later.” He turned to the patrolmen. “You boys take a look at the fire-escape.” They climbed out into the fog. At that moment the door leading from the reception-room into the hallway opened, and an odd little group came in. A stout, middle-aged man led the procession; he was Mr. Cuttle, the night-watchman.

“Here they are, Captain,” he said. “I’ve rounded up everybody in the building, except a few cleaning women who have nothing to do with this floor. You can see ‘em later, if you like. This is Mrs. Dyke, who takes care of the two top floors.”

Mrs. Dyke, very frightened, said that she had finished with Kirk’s office at seven and gone out, leaving the burglar alarm in working order, as was her custom. She had not been back since. She had seen no one about the building whom she did not recognize.

“And who is this?” inquired the Captain, turning to a pale, sandy-haired young man who appeared extremely nervous.

“I am employed by Brace and Davis, Certified Public Accountants, on the second floor,” said the young man. “My name is Samuel Smith. I was working tonight to catch up - I have been ill - when Mr. Cuttle informed me I was wanted up here. I know nothing of this horrible affair.”

Flannery turned to the fourth and last member of the party, a young woman whose uniform marked her as an operator of one of the elevators.