At the top of the flight Cadet Vench stopped, feeling the door before him. He felt some anxiety that it might be locked, but it was not and he pushed it open. It swung back slowly and without sound, and they looked into the hall of the old school. It was black there, but to their surprise they heard voices in a side room.
Following Vench they tiptoed along the hall, prepared to fight things out if they were discovered. Opposite the room from which the faint light was streaming and from which the voices came was another room, and the four boys had no difficulty in slipping into it. And from this vantage point, safe in the darkness, they looked straight across the hall into a large room.
Dennings was in the room, with his back to them, a revolver in his hand. He was pointing it at two very frightened men, who cowered in a far corner near some dusty old portraits which hung on the wall. Vench started in surprise. One of the men was Paul Morro and the other was his companion.
The men had a single candle by which to work, and they had been engaged in cutting the canvas out of a picture when Dennings had surprised them. Morro had a sharp knife in his hand. A long bench had been placed under the picture, and the men were standing in front of it. As they listened Dennings was speaking, his revolver still pointed at the men.
“That’s a pretty queer story,” the man was saying. “I wonder if I am supposed to believe it?”
“Sir,” answered Paul Morro, “I am telling you the truth. My companion and I are French collectors, and we were tipped off that a valuable painting, stolen from France years ago, had been brought to this country and later had been given to this school as a present. We heard that the original canvas had been concealed under the canvas of a common picture, and acting on the hint we came to America to rescue the portrait and return it to its rightful home. Sometime ago we entered Locke Hall and slashed a picture that we suspected there, but it did not prove to be the one that we wanted.”
“I heard about that,” nodded Dennings, half convinced. “How did you fellows come to get in here?”
“We made inquiries about the school in town,” said Morro, “and we learned that this old building, which we had thought empty, had some furniture and paintings in it. A man who had repaired the roof a few years ago told us, and we decided that the portrait might be in here. So we forced a window and got into the place tonight. We were examining these pictures when you came in.”
“So I noticed,” said Dennings grimly.
“That is all there is to it, sir. We did not intend to steal anything except the portrait, and that is ours anyway. We’ll promise to leave and never come back if you will let us off.”