"Oh, don't preach, Helmar!" cried Arden impatiently. "Allow me to do as I think fit. Now, will you come and get that money, or must I, on account of some silly notion of yours, go and fetch it? Of course, if you will not, then——"
"All right, lead the way," said Helmar, "I'll follow."
Arden led the way to a tumble-down, two-storied building, and the trio entered. It was dark inside.
"You'd better follow me pretty closely," said their guide, "the floor is none too sound, and you may have a tumble if you don't."
The two friends followed close up to their guide, and as they turned into a room, Osterberg fancied he heard a sound proceed from it. As nothing further alarmed him, he put it down to his straining nerves. As soon as they were inside, the door closed sharply behind them, and the ominous click of the lock made them both start. Helmar was about to say something, when Mark anticipated him.
"Hold on while I strike a light. The beastly wind has blown the door to."
This was such palpable nonsense that George expostulated.
"There isn't a breath of wind, man. Hurry up with the light!"
Arden fumbled with some matches for a moment, and then a light was struck.