"Did Rochester
tell you, Ferguson, that he had recognized Turnbull in his burglar
disguise?"
"No, sir; I never had an opportunity to ask him, for he disappeared
Tuesday night and has not been seen or heard of since," Ferguson
rejoined.
"Hold on," Kent checked him with an impatient gesture. "I had a
telegram from Rochester this morning, stating he was in Cleveland."
"I didn't forget about the telegram," retorted Ferguson. "It was
to consult you about that, that I hunted you up to-night. That
telegram was bogus."
"What!" Kent half rose from his chair.
"Yes. After the inquest I called Cleveland on the long distance,
talked with the City Club officials and with Police Headquarters;
all declared that Rochester was not there, and no trace could be
found of his having ever arrived in the city."
Clymer laid down his half smoked cigar and stared at the detective.
"You think then that Rochester has bolted?" he asked.
"It looks that way," insisted Ferguson. "How about it, Mr. Kent?"
The question was put with a touch of arrogance.
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