THE PRICE
Hickey had rolled out before the policeman had a chance to bluster.
"’Lo, Bergen," he greeted the man. "Yeh know me—I'm Hickey, Central Office. Yeh're jus' in time. Anisty's in this buildin'—'r was ten minutes ago. We want all the help we c'n get."
By way of reply the officer stooped and drummed a loud alarm on the sidewalk with his night-stick.
"Say," he panted, rising, "you're a wonder, Hickey—if you get him."
"Uh-huh," grunted the detective with a sidelong glance at Maitland. "C'm 'long."
The lobby of the building was quite deserted as they entered, the night-watchman invisible, the night elevator on its way to the roof—as was discovered by consultation of the indicator dial above the gate. Hickey punched the night call bell savagely.
"Me 'nd him," he said, jerking the free thumb at Maitland, "’ll go up and hunt him out. Begin at th' top floor an' work down. That's th' way, huh? 'Nd," to the policeman, "yeh stay here an'
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