But the flustered group of five or six men and women whom he interviewed later was able to add little to his stock of information. All they could speak of was the sudden apparition of two or three men who, armed with pistols, had rounded them up one by one, and left them under guard in the servants' hall breathing dire and fearful threats of what might happen if they attempted any resistance. There they had been held, a panic-stricken group, until with a final warning not to move for ten minutes, a thin-faced man who had taken chief control of them, had slipped away. The descriptions they gave of the men, as usual where the ordinary person is called upon for a test of observation, varied in immense degree. That did not so much matter as Labar imagined that he had himself seen most of the principals in the raid. "We'll have a look through the house, in case they've left anything behind," observed the detective inspector to Malone. "They may have hurried a little too much." But the search, minute and detailed as the circumstances allowed, brought small result. In Mrs. Gertstein's room there was evidence that she had hurriedly packed a couple of bags, and downstairs in the room where Labar had been received by Mrs. Gertstein and where Hughes had interrupted them, there was a pile of burnt papers in the grate. "I evidently did not knock all the wits out of Larry," said Labar. "Mrs. Gertstein would not have thought of that by herself. She has been destroying her correspondence." He bent to examine the ashes, and shook his head. There are methods of piecing together and preserving even burnt papers if they are not too far gone. But these had apparently been stirred again and again with a poker till they were little but impalpable ash. The detective again discerned the hand of Larry. It was this kind of forethought that had aided to give that crook immunity for so long. On a little writing-table was a note heavily sealed with red wax, and addressed to "Harry Labar, Esq." The inspector tore it open.