The placing of Tierney on guard in the hall had been an impulsive act on Morgan's part. It was more to put an idea into immediate execution than to actually have a protecting outpost at this time, for the very nature of his experience would have told Morgan that after the mysterious attack upon Jane Atwood there would be little possibility of a similar occurrence the same day. The instant he saw Tierney lying in the hall, however, he realized that the man had been the victim of a somewhat similar attack, and the mere thought that such a thing was possible stunned him into inaction for a moment. The next minute both he and Marsh were kneeling at Tierney's side and endeavoring to arouse him.
Morgan removed Tierney's cap and passed his hand around over the man's head until he found a slight lump, a little back of the right ear.
"Knocked out with a black-jack!" he cried. "How could a man get that close to Tierney without being heard!"
"The carpet in these halls and on the stairs is well padded," explained Marsh. "I have noticed on a number of occasions that people passing up and down these stairs make very little noise unless a foot happens to strike the woodwork. And you can be sure of one thing, Morgan, this man must have been pretty close at hand. He got into action without having to do much climbing."
"Or descending," added Morgan, suddenly, looking at Marsh.
"If he came DOWN the stairs, Morgan, then the girl has certainly been pulling the wool over our eyes."
Morgan shook his head doubtfully. "Well, I'll acknowledge that it takes a pretty wise detective to understand a woman."
At this moment, Tierney showed signs of coming back to life. His eyes opened and looked at them with a dazed stare. Almost instantly this changed to a savage glare. His two arms shot up, seized the men leaning over him and pulled them down. Like most people who have been knocked unconscious, Tierney had no idea of the intervening lapse of time. Before becoming unconscious he had probably realized that he was attacked, and he was now taking up the fight where he had left off.
"Hold on, Tierney—this is Morgan—Morgan—do you understand? And this is Marsh with me!"
The two men held Tierney down until he had a chance to collect his thoughts. Then he smiled sheepishly as he looked from one to the other. "What the—!" he began; then paused.
They jerked him to his feet and set him down on the stair. There he sat for a moment, rubbing the sore spot on his head, of which he now began to be conscious.
"Guess I'd better resign," he said, dolefully, coming to a full realization of the situation. "A detective ain't much use after he begins to need a bodyguard."
"Cut the nonsense, Tierney," admonished Morgan. "Tell us what happened."
"That's what I'd like to know," growled Tierney.
"Well then," suggested Morgan, "tell us what happened up to the point where you don't know anything."
"Let's see," reflected Tierney. "When you sent me out into the hall, the first thing I did was to go part way up this flight of stairs and make sure that all was clear above. Then I sat down exactly where I am sitting now, but close to the stair rail. I figured that if anybody came up the stairs I could see him before he spotted me. I heard a couple of people go out downstairs, but everything was quiet up here. I kept my eye on your friend here while he took the girl upstairs. After he went in I settled back in the same place again. Finally I felt like a smoke. There didn't seem much chance of anybody coming back again, so I figured I might as well have a smoke and I got out my pipe. While I was lighting up, something hit me. You know the rest better than I do."
"But," expostulated Morgan, "you're no green hand, Tierney. How could anybody sneak up behind you without your hearing them?"
Tierney looked foolish for a moment, then brightened up. "Morgan," he said, "I've got the dope. That old pipe of mine was wheezing like a sick horse when I began to pull on it. That's what gave the fellow his chance. I'll admit it, Morgan—I should have known better than to light it in the first place."
"All right, Tierney, you've learned your lesson. But I'm afraid you let something good slip by you."
"It is my opinion," Marsh broke in, "that he has let the most important actor in the drama get away. The man must have been pretty desperate to take such a chance, and I doubt if anyone but the leading character would have been so anxious to get away quickly and unseen. Now then, let us go up to the Atwood apartment. I will assume the role of protector to Miss Atwood while you two, whom she knows to be detectives, can search the flat."
At this, Tierney stood up on the stairs and looked suspiciously at Marsh. Then, as Morgan agreed to the idea, Tierney turned toward him and exclaimed, "Say, you gone crazy?"
Morgan gazed at him in astonishment.
Marsh laughed. "Tierney is still suspicious," he said.
Morgan's face lit up with understanding. Going over to Tierney, he whispered in his ear.
"Well, I'm damned!" Tierney mumbled.
The three men then climbed the stairs to the Atwood apartment, and Morgan's hand was already on the push button of the electric bell when there was an exclamation from Marsh.
"Stop!" he cried. "Look here."
They instantly saw what he meant. The wood door was standing open about two inches, and there was sufficient light in the entrance hall of the apartment to show that at least no one was looking out.
"Remember, I'm in the background on this," Marsh whispered to Morgan. "You two take, the lead—but be cautious."
Morgan pulled out his revolver and Tierney followed his example. Then Morgan gave the door a quick push and stood back. It swung back against the wall with a resounding thud, but outside of that sound everything remained silent. The three men then moved warily into the doorway, with Tierney and Morgan in the lead. While Marsh remained in the entrance hall, Tierney stepped into the living room and Morgan crept cautiously through the portieres into the dining room. So silently did these two men move that Marsh heard, nothing until, a moment later, he saw Morgan step back through the portieres. The doors of both the bedroom and the bathroom stood open and Morgan, without saying anything to Marsh, investigated these two rooms. Then he returned to the entrance hall and spoke to Marsh, who had already been joined by Tierney.
"Not a soul in the flat but the girl," whispered Morgan. "She's in a chair in the dining room, and apparently unconscious again. There's an odor of chloroform in the dining room!"
Marsh sprang through the dining room portieres, followed by the others. He found Jane Atwood in a rocking chair near one of the windows. She was apparently unconscious, but there were convulsive movements of her body. Marsh sniffed the aromatic odor and nodded. "I don't think they gave her much," he said. "She's just barely unconscious. I'll try to revive her while you two look things over more carefully."
Morgan turned to Tierney. "You take another look at the front," he directed. "Look through all the drawers and closets, but be careful not to leave anything upset."
Tierney promptly started on his work of investigation. Morgan turned back into the kitchen. He had previously noticed that the maid's room was upset and he wanted to examine this room again. The bed was made up, but as the linen was fresh and unwrinkled it seemed certain that no one had occupied it recently. The chief cause of the disorder seemed to have been a hasty examination of the closet. A roll of blankets and some other articles that had evidently been on the shelf of the closet had been pulled down and scattered over the bedroom floor. A couple of suits, and other articles of men's attire, were hung on the hooks, apparently undisturbed. Morgan saw that a speedy search had been made for something. Whether or not the object had been found it was impossible to say.
Going back into the kitchen, and trying the rear door, he discovered that, though closed, it was unlocked. He locked it, and returning to the dining room, found that Marsh had succeeded in reviving the girl. Tierney was also there, and the two men were chatting with her.
"You seem to be having a good deal of trouble today," said Morgan, as he neared her.
She smiled wanly at him.
"I can't understand it at all. Burglars must be extremely bold in Chicago."
"Do you think it was a burglar?" asked Morgan.
"What else could it be?" she returned. "I am sure that I have no enemies anywhere, and I haven't even any friends in Chicago."
"Are you keeping anything of special value in the house?" inquired Morgan.
"Only what you can see about you," she replied "And these rings, which have not been touched."
"You are sure you didn't have anything of value concealed in the maid's room?"
"No, that's the room my father uses when he comes home from his trips."
"Well, perhaps he had something of value there."
"I'm quite sure he did not," she said, positively.
"How do you feel now, Miss Atwood?" asked Marsh, catching the drift of the questioning.
"Just a little bewildered," she replied, "and slightly nauseated, but I think I shall be all right presently."
"Do you feel equal to looking over that room now?" Marsh inquired.
"I think so," she said, and with Marsh's assistance, she arose from her chair.
Morgan led the way and the girl, leaning on Marsh's arm, followed.
"You see," said Morgan, when they had reached the maid's room, "somebody has pulled everything off the shelf. Is there anything missing as far as you know?"
Miss Atwood looked over the articles on the floor, glanced at the empty shelf, and at the bottom of the closet. Then she turned to Morgan. "My father had a suitcase on that shelf," she said. "I do not see it there now."
"Oh," murmured Morgan. "Was it an empty suitcase?"
"I really couldn't tell you. I never examined it, as it was always pretty well hidden under a lot of other things."
"I see," said Morgan. "The burglar evidently stole only the suitcase, thinking perhaps there was something of value in it. We'd better go now," he added, turning to the others. "Miss Atwood will want to lie down and rest after her exciting day."
When they reached the front door, Morgan turned to her. "Do you expect your father home soon, Miss Atwood?" he inquired.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "I haven't read my letter yet. You see, I had just reached the dining room when that burglar attacked me."
"You need not worry about any further disturbances or attacks, Miss Atwood," Morgan assured her. "There will be a policeman at the front and back of this house inside of an hour, and they will stay here until we clear up this case."
"And remember that I live close at hand, on the floor below, Miss Atwood," reminded Marsh. "If there is anything I can do to help you at any time, don't fail to call upon me."
"Thank you," she replied, and closed the door as the men went down the stairs.
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