Completely satisfied that no living person remained in the house he pushed his pistol back into his pocket and lit a cigarette. There was nothing to hurry about now. He would have to wait till his men arrived in any event.

He moved about the house taking for the moment a superficial if methodical survey. But as he entered room after room to find each in applepie order, with nothing that could in any manner be construed to fit with his theory that the house was a depot for stolen goods, he puffed more fiercely at his cigarette and his eyebrows drew more closely together.

“If Larry’s had the stuff here he’s made a clean sweep or he’s hidden it pretty tight,” he muttered. “But he can’t have got away with it. It isn’t possible.”