It was a poor guess, for when we hits Sixth Avenue there's no yellow taxi in sight. "Wouldn't Auntie's game be to double back home?" I suggests. "We'll see," says Old Hickory, and gives the order to beat it uptown again. And, sure enough, just as we gets in sight of the apartment house, there's the other taxi, with Auntie haulin' Captain Killam out hasty. Before we can dash up and pile out, they've disappeared in the vestibule. "Looks like we'd lost out by a nose," says I. "Not yet," says Old Hickory. "I intend to see what those two mean by this." And after 'em we rushes. But the one elevator was half way up when we fetches the gate. Old Hickory puts his finger on the button and holds it there. "They've stopped at the fourth," says I. "Now it'll be comin'-- No; it's goin' all the way to the roof!" There it stayed, too, although Old Hickory shoots some spicy commands up the elevator well. "No use; he's been bought," says I. "What's the matter with the stairs? Only three flights." "Good idea!" says Mr. Ellins; and up we starts. He wouldn't break any stair-climbin' records in an amateur contest, though, and when he does puff on to the last landin' he's purple behind the ears and ain't got breath enough left to make any kind of speech. So I tackles another interview with Helma. "No," says she; "Meesus not coom yet." "Ah, ditch the perjury stuff, Helma," says I. "Didn't we just follow her in?" "No coom yet," insists Helma in her wooden way. That's all I can get out of her, too. It wasn't that she'd had orders to say Auntie wasn't at home, or didn't care to receive just then. Helma sticks to the simple statement that Auntie hasn't come back. "But say," I protests; "we just trailed her here. Get that? We was right on her heels when she struck the elevator. And the Captain was with her." "No coom," says Helma, shakin' her head solemn. "Why, you she-Ananias, you!" I gasps. "Do you mean to tell me that--" "I beg pardon," says a familiar acetic acid voice behind us--and I turns to see Auntie steppin' out of the elevator. "Were you looking for someone?" she goes on. "You've guessed it," says I. "In fact, we was--" "Madam," breaks in Mr. Ellins, "will you kindly tell me what you have done with Captain Rupert Killam?" "Certainly, Mr. Ellins," says Auntie. "Won't you step in?" "I should prefer to be told here, at once," says Old Hickory. "My preference," comes back Auntie, "if I must be cross-examined, is to undergo the process in the privacy of my own library, not in a public hallway." Well, there was nothing else to it. We could either stay out there and stare at the door, or follow her in. So in we goes. And maybe Vee's gray eyes don't open some wide as she views the procession streamin' in. She glances at me inquirin'. I throws up both hands and shakes my head, indicatin' that it was beyond words.