"Right by the door," Wilkins supplied. "Duck in the second I turn the knob, throw on the light, and then dodge along the wall," the law commanded briefly. "Are you ready?" The invaluable one muttered his assent. The knob turned soundlessly and the door flew open. Wilkins, with a distinctly terrified little wheeze, pushed in, jabbed at the button, and scurried down the room on his hands and knees, eyes shut to shield his brain from the horrible impression. Yet there was no hint of anything horrible. With all four corners of the room in plain sight, with the empty closet partly open and its interior fully visible, no burglar crouched, pistol in hand--no masked malefactor leaped forward to stun the officer with his padded lead-pipe. Only David Prentiss was in the room, and David slumbered sweetly in the bed, the covers pulled tight up around his young chin, a gentle dream-smile upon his regular features. "Well, wotter yuh know about----" the officer began. "Hush!" Anthony said gently. "What?" "Don't wake the youngster!" Anthony whispered sharply. "There's no need for that, officer. Look around if you like and then let us get out of here." He folded his arms and waited, while the officer, visibly puzzled, poked about the room, and Wilkins, on his feet and smiling sheepishly, tip-toed to the door--while the night manager of the Lasande stepped in and looked about with a mixture of perplexity and relief, and Johnson Boller stood and stared at the sleeping David. "Are you quite sure it was this window, officer?" the manager asked. "I am that, if this is the one next to the corner of the house." "But are you quite sure that you didn't imagine it?" Anthony asked tartly. The policeman looked him over gravely. "Boss, when I can see a man in black clothes staring down at me, letting off a little howl of fright, and then turning around and going into a window--when I can see that and it ain't there, I'll turn in my tin and go back to the docks. The guy came in this window and----" "Well, since it is quite evident that he didn't, he couldn't have come in," the manager of the faultless hotel said hastily, as he caught Anthony's expression. "You've made a mistake in the window, officer. We'll go down and look up from the street again and see just what window you do mean." "But----" "We will not bother the gentlemen further," Mr. Dodbury said firmly. Anthony nodded. "Show them out, Wilkins. Come, Johnson." "Wait a second," Johnson Boller said softly, as the others filed out of sight. "Wait for what?" "I want to admire this little cherub, sleeping here so soundly," Mr. Boller muttered. "Don't be absurd! Come and----" This thing of losing sleep rendered Johnson Boller uglier than could anything else in the world. "Are they out of hearing?" he said. "All right. Somebody did close a window in here. I heard it close!" "When?" "Five minutes before the last excitement," said Mr. Boller. "How many pair of pajamas did Wilkins give this kid?"