"I'm worried about my Uncle Phil." Stephen Bates' voice was anxious over the phone. "He failed to keep a dinner engagement with me tonight. Do you mind meeting me at his place - say in half an hour?"
Dr. Patel agreed and we was waiting outside the building when Stephen Bates arrived by cab. The doorman, recognizing Stephen Bates, let them in the building.
Stephen explained to the doorman that he was worried about his uncle. "My uncle thought he was being followed the last couple of days," said Stephen. "He keeps a great deal of cash in a wall safe in his den. Unfortunately, he isn't exactly secretive about it."
"That's the first I've heard of it," responded the doorman. "I didn't even know he had a safe in his apartment. Well, let's go upstairs and check on him. I'm sure everything is just fine. I haven't seen anyone lurking about."
In the elevator, Stephen stammered, "When he didn't show up for dinner, I telephoned him. I got no answer."
Leaving the elevator on the 14th floor, the three men rapidly walked to the door of Philip Bates' apartment. It was unlocked. The entrance hall burned the only light.
"Better have a look in the den," suggested Dr. Patel.
Stephen nodded and stepped out of the way so the doorman could lead the way. The doorman paused at the door to the darkened room. "There's a floor lamp in the corner," he said, and disappeeared into the darkness. An instand later the room ws bathed in light. Directly behind the desk a small oval safe door was open. The doorman stood in a corner, one hand on the lamp, an expression of alarm twisting his face. He stepped back over the unmoving form of Phil Bates, who lay at his feet. "I-is he dead?"
Stephen and Dr. Patel rushed over and knelt beside Philip Bates. Dr. Patel responded, "No, a nasty blow on the head, but not fatal." He turned and looked directly into the culprit's eyes and whispered, "Lucky for you!"
