"Am
I ill or dreaming?"
"Anything wrong, sir?" a policeman inquired, opening the cell door and
looking in. "Why, what have you done with the prisoner--where is he?"
"I have no more idea than you," the lawyer gasped. "He was talking to
me quite naturally, when he suddenly left off--said something
idiotic--and disappeared."
Hamar did not dally. He quietly slipped through the open door, and
darting swiftly along a stone passage, found his way to the entrance,
which was blocked by two constables with their backs to him.
"I'll give the brutes something to remember me by," Hamar chuckled,
and, taking a run, he kicked first one, and then the other with all
his might, precipitating them both into the street. He then sped past
them--home.
Hamar, by astute inquiries, learned that the police had decided to
hush up the affair, not being quite sure how they had figured, or,
indeed, what had actually occurred. As to Cotton, the shock he had
undergone, at seeing Hamar suddenly melt away before his eyes, was so
great that he went off his head, and had to be confined in an asylum.
After this adventure Hamar shunned restaurants, and manipulating his
new property sparingly, and with the utmost caution, warned Kelson and
Curtis to do the same.
"I'll bet anything," he said to them, "it was a put-up job on the part
of the Unknown--a cunning device to make us break the compact."
"Oh, we'll be careful enough as far as that goes," Curtis growled.
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