utes to eleven. He went out into the hall and drew back into the shelter of a big fuel box there.
Dorsett came up the stairs, buggy whip in hand. He bustled into the office in his usual self-important way. Frank noticed that the old clerk sat down on him promptly. He was not one bit impressed with the bombastic visitor from Greenville.
Dorsett scowled as the clerk pointed to the clock, and impatiently fumbling the whip, sat down with the others in the office to await the royal pleasure of its closeted proprietor.
Frank did a lot of thinking. He planned all kinds of wild dashes when the door of that private office should open. Then, happening to stroll down the hall, a new idea was suggested to him.
"Would it win?" Frank breathlessly asked himself.
He had come out on a little landing. This was that platform of stairs running down into the rear of the lot that the bank and the insurance office occupied.
Six feet away from it to the left were two windows. They were both open. The low hum of voices reached Frank's ears. Judging from the situation of the apartment beyond, Frank was sure that he had located the insurance man's private room.
