So away they went to pass a week, intending to be in Washington by the 10th of January.
CHAPTER XVIII
It was the third morning after Cobb and Hugh had started for America, that Marie Colchester, or, as she should be called, Marie Hathaway, had said to Mollie:
“I wish I could see some of those peculiar contrivances which Mr. Cobb used in his sepulchre, in San Francisco.”
“And why may we not?” Mollie had returned. “He is away, and we can take a peep into his room without a living soul but ourselves knowing it.”
So it was that these two girls stole silently into Cobb’s bedroom, and noted, with feminine curiosity, every detail of a man’s private apartments.
With a guilty feeling, they opened bureau and chiffonier drawers, peered into boxes, and finally opened the doors of the wardrobe. None of the wonderful inventions for prolonging life, which they had expected to find, were discernible. Then into the closet, to the left of the bed, they looked. An old trunk, an iron box, some old boots, and a bundle of clothing, were all that met their view.
“Humph! We haven’t discovered much, Marie,” dolefully exclaimed Mollie. “Hugh’s room looks just like this. Nothing but clothing, old boots and shoes, and such traps,” and she seized the old clothing in the corner, and threw it disdainfully to the side of the closet.
“Hello! What’s this?” she slowly exclaimed, as a hollow rod of copper fell to the floor at her feet.