The house was pinched last night, as you know by this time. I had gone
to the back room on the third floor by myself because I thought they
were going to murder a man in the office, and I was sickened by it. I
don't know if he got away or not. I suppose the whole story will be in
the evening papers. Anyhow I heard the three shots outside, which you
told me would be the signal, so I beat it up the ladder to the scuttle.
You told me if any one else tried to get out that way, I was to let
them go on ahead of me and hide in the hall closet, but I was all
alone. There was a deuce of a racket down-stairs. The servants in the
front room were hollering, but they didn't come out. I got out on the
roof and met the detectives coming over from the hotel. They grabbed
me and threw a light in my face. Seeing who it was they let me go. I
was glad. I was afraid maybe you had forgotten to give them
instructions. I went down to the street through the hotel, and chased
home as quick as I could. According to your instructions I shall go on
living here as usual until I hear from you.
Yours respectfully,
RALPH ANDRUS.
For nearly a week nothing of any importance happened. Then I received
this:
_July 16th._