Without hesitation he pulled out some instruments.One of them was a rubber suction-cup, which he fastened to the windowpane.Then with a very fine diamond-cutter he proceeded to cut out a large section.It soon fell and was prevented from smashing on the floor by the string and the suction-cup.Kennedy put his hand in and unlatched the window, and we stepped in.
All was silent.Apparently the house was deserted.
Cautiously Kennedy pressed the button of his pocket storage-battery lamp and flashed it slowly about the room.It was a sort of library, handsomely furnished.At last the beam of light rested on a huge desk at the opposite end.It seemed to interest Kennedy, and we tiptoed over to it.One after another he opened the drawers.One was locked, and he saved that until the last.
Quietly as he could, he jimmied it open, muffling the jimmy in a felt cloth that was on a table.Most people do not realise the disruptive force that there is in a simple jimmy.I didn't until I saw the solid drawer with its heavy lock yield with just the trace of a noise.Kennedy waited an instant and listened.Nothing happened.
Inside the drawer was a most nondescript collection of useless articles.There were a number of pieces of fine sponge, some of them very thin and cut in a flat oval shape, smelling of lysol strongly; several bottles, a set of sharp little knives, some paraffin, bandages, antiseptic gauze, cotton - in fact, it looked like a first-aid kit.As soon as he saw it Kennedy seemed astonished but not at a loss to account for it.
"I thought he left that sort of thing to the doctors, but I guess he took a hand in it himself," he muttered, continuing to fumble with the knives in the drawer.It was no time to ask questions, and I did not.Kennedy rapidly stowed away the things in his pockets.
One bottle he opened and held to his nose.I could distinguish immediately the volatile smell of ether.He closed it quickly, and it, too, went into his pocket with the remark, "Somebody must have known how to administer an anaesthetic - probably the Wollstone woman."A suppressed exclamation from Kennedy caused me to look.The drawer had a false back.Safely tucked away in it reposed a tin box, one of those so-called strong-boxes which are so handy in that they save a burglar much time and trouble in hunting all over for the valuables he has come after.Kennedy drew it forth and laid it on the desk.
It was locked.
Even that did not seem to satisfy Kennedy, who continued to scrutinise the walls and corners of the room as if looking for a safe or something of that sort.
"Let's look in the room across the hall," he whispered.
Suddenly a piercing scream of a woman rang out upstairs."Help!
Help! There's some one in the house! Billy, help!"I felt an arm grasp me tightly, and for a moment a chill ran over me at being caught in the nefarious work of breaking and entering a dwelling-house at night.But it was only Kennedy, who had already tucked the precious little tin box under his arm.
With a leap he dragged me to the open window, cleared it, vaulted over the porch, and we were running for the clump of woods that adjoined the estate on one side.Lights flashed in all the windows of the house at once.There must have been some sort of electric-light system that could be lighted instantly as a "burglar-expeller." Anyhow, we had made good our escape.
As we lost ourselves in the woods I gave a last glance back and saw a lantern carried from the house to the garage.As the door was unlocked I could see, in the moonlight, a huge dog leap out and lick the hands and face of a man.
Quickly we now crashed through the frozen underbrush.Evidently Kennedy was making for the station by a direct route across country instead of the circuitous way by the road and town.Behind us we could hear a deep baying.
"By the Lord, Walter," cried Kennedy, for once in his life thoroughly alarmed, "it's a bloodhound, and our trail is fresh."Closer it came.Press forward as we might, we could never expect to beat that dog.
"Oh, for a stream," groaned Kennedy, "but they are all frozen - even the river.
He stopped short, fumbled in his pocket, and drew out the bottle of ether.
"Raise your foot, Walter," he ordered.
I did so and he smeared first mine and then his with the ether.
Then we doubled on our trail once or twice and ran again.
"The dog will never be able to pick up the ether as our trail,"panted Kennedy; "that is, if he is any good and trained not to go off on wild-goose chases."On we hurried from the woods to the now dark and silent town.It was indeed fortunate that the dog had been thrown off our scent, for the station was closed, and, indeed, if it had been open I am sure the station agent would have felt more like locking the door against two such tramps as we were, carrying a tin box and pursued by a dog, than opening it for us.The best we could do was to huddle into a corner until we succeeded in jumping a milk-train that luckily slowed down as it passed Riverwood station.
Neither of us could wait to open the tin box in our apartment, and instead of going uptown Kennedy decided it would be best to go to a hotel near the station.Somehow we succeeded in getting a room without exciting suspicion.Hardly had the bellboy's footsteps ceased echoing in the corridor than Kennedy was at work wrenching off the lid of the box with such leverage as the scanty furnishings of the room afforded.
At last it yielded, and we looked in curiously, expecting to find fabulous wealth in some form.A few hundred dollars and a rope of pearls lay in it.It was a good "haul," but where was the vast spoil the counterfeiters had accumulated? We had missed it.So far we were completely baffled.
"Perhaps we had better snatch a couple of hours' sleep," was all that Craig said, stifling his chagrin.
Over and over in my mind I was turning the problem of where they had hidden the spoil.I dozed off, still thinking about it and thinking that, even should they be captured, they might have stowed away perhaps a million dollars to which they could go back after their sentences were served.
