"You can rely upon seeing me." The detective led the way into the building, and opened the door leading into a large, barely furnished office.
"Chief's gone home for the night, I guess," he remarked.

"We can fix up a shakedown for you in one of the rooms behind." "I thank you," Mr.Sabin said, sitting down in a high-backed wooden chair; "I decline to move until the charge against me is properly explained." "There is no one here to do it just now," the man answered.

"Better make yourself comfortable for a bit." "You detain me here, then," Mr.Sabin said, "without even a sight of your warrant or any intimation as to the charge against me ?" "Oh, the chief'll fix all that," the man answered.

"Don't you worry." Mr.Sabin smiled.
In a magnificently furnished apartment somewhere in the neighbourhood of Fifth Avenue a small party of men were seated round a card table piled with chips and rolls of bills.

On the sideboard there was a great collection of empty bottles, spirit decanters and Vichy syphons.