XI
MAX HAS CHANGED HIS LODGINGS
The taxicab brought Hereford swiftly to his apartment building. The doorman met him at the curb, all excitement, all explanatory; the manager of the building, more suave, met him at the door. The police appeared rather impartially distributed all about. His man had returned before him and had at once set himself inventorying to discover what had been taken. McAdams, who had arrived soon after Hereford's departure and therefore was waiting below when the disturbance in the apartment was first reported, was consequently the first on the ground and the most obstinate about leaving.
"I am convinced," the detective reviewed the case in his consultation with Hereford after the rest had gone, "that the object of this invasion was not ordinary robbery. Owing to the fact that you have not yet discovered anything missing—though everything has been disturbed—I feel that I am confirmed in my first opinion that this search is a direct result of the complications over the loss of the Surakarta."
"I should think so," Hereford granted wearily.
"Beyond question," McAdams continued, "the search was made to discover if had the Surakarta in your possession in this place. The thieves evidently planned this carefully and well. They came up the fire-escape, apparently, and after exhausting every possible concealment, they took themselves off the same way. From the thoroughness with which they have gone through everything, there must have been several of them * * *" McAdams went on and on, ponderously. Hereford, his own speculations possessing him, lacked the requisite energy to rid himself of his representative. Yet he was relieved when, answering a ring at the house telephone, he heard Max's voice; and, in a moment, the little German came up.
With the calmness of one who had the event adequately described to him before and who had determined in his mind that the described event was a phenomenon of only passing interest, Max surveyed the confusion which Hereford's man was only beginning to put straight.
"Come in, Max," Hereford invited.
Max, gazing about with mild curiosity, shook his head.
"No, since you are busy with Mr. McAdams. It iss nothings. I did not come to see this," he dismissed with a nod of his head the confusion which had so agitated the others. "I have heard what it iss—nothings."
"Nothing?" McAdams grunted his disgust.
"I said so," Max replied, gazing at the heavily featured man calmly.
"Then you do not see that it is connected with the search for the Surakarta?" McAdams questioned, pityingly. "I, fortunately, was on the ground when the trouble was first discovered. There is no possible question but that this is not a real robbery at all—that is, in the ordinary sense. It was a search made by those who believe that Mr. Hereford has the Surakarta in order to see if they could discover it here."
"That," Max replied, "iss why I said it iss nothings."
McAdams spluttered, futilely.
"You are busy," Max spoke to Hereford. "I, too, am busy and it iss late already." He looked at his watch. "I came only to tell you that in case you want me I haf changed my address."
"You're not giving up your present quarters, Max?" Hereford asked good-naturedly.
"No—no; you misunderstand. It iss only I, not my family; and for the time only."
He looked again at McAdams, doubtfully, but seemed to reassure himself. "Just now," he concluded, "I lif here on your North Side—yes, in the very next room but one to that foreigner who, as Mr. McAdams has told us, fired pistols at nothings in the night before the Surakarta wass stolen."
He went out again as briskly as he had entered.