Chapter 3
WITH a single electric bulb burning, I left Detective-Sergeant Burke seated on a stool in front of two immense bales of wastepaper gathered from twelve floors of apartments in the Esplanade. Knowing that this would be, at least, an all night job, I started back to the apartment on the fourth floor. But I never got there, for I found Thatcher Colt impatiently waiting for me in the lobby. As we hastened out to the sidewalk, I told him that Burke had started on his task.
Before we could say more, we were at the commissioner's car, and Neil McMahon saluted and announced he had something of interest to impart. Neil's actual words were:
"Chief, I got some dirt for you on this Foster case."
"Well?"
"I just got it from the janitor. He was telling me that on or about 8.10 on the morn
