rows. I didn't know that lawyer who took this apartment was a crook."
"We'll do the job as quietly as possible," answered the second policeman, who chanced to know the elevator man.
"Dan, I think you can help me out," suggested Dick. "You might go to the door and call out that there is a telegram for Belright Fogg. Then, when he opens the door, push into the room and we'll follow."
"Want me to help?" asked the elevator man, who was becoming interested.
"If you will," said Dick. "You can guard the stairs—so they can't run down that way."
"I'll do it."
Without further delay Dan Baxter walked to the door at which Dick had been listening. He chanced to have an old telegram envelope in his pocket and this he produced. He knocked loudly on the portal.
"Who is there?" cried the lawyer, in a somewhat startled voice, and Baxter heard several chairs shifted back as the occupants of the apartment leaped to their feet.
"Telegram for Mr. Fogg—Belright Fogg!" drawled Dan, in imitation of an A. D. T. youth.
"A telegram, eh?" muttered the lawyer. "Wonder what is up now?"
