The door had scarcely closed on the officer when the demeanor of the other man changed. He arose, looked into the dining room, and listened at the hall doorway for a second. Then he recrossed the apartment and knelt before the safe. Adam Adams heard him mutter something to himself as he twirled around the knob of the combination. Twice he tried the door and failed to open it, but the third effort was successful. But before he could do more than glance into the strong box, there was a noise in the hallway. Instantly he shut the door again, dropped into his chair, and resumed his smoking.
"Women folks are a regular nuisance," was the policeman's comment, on coming back. "Want you to do this and then that—keep you on the go all the time. I'm tired of it."
"Take my advice, and don't marry," was the rejoinder, with a laugh.
"Too late—I've got a wife and five children already. But I've got to go to the barn. Will you come along?"
"Why—er—I suppose so." The stranger hesitated. "I'll have to be going pretty soon. Going to stay in this room all night?"
"No; I'm going to lock up and go upstairs."
"That's right; nothing like resting on a good bed. I don't think the girl will try to run away,"
"She can't—we're watching her too closely."
The pair left the library. Scarcely had they gone when Adam Adams opened one of the blinds, made a quick leap, and came inside.
"That fellow will bear watching, no matter who he claims to be," the detective told himself. "But there is no use of following him now, for he will be back sooner or later. He did not open this safe for nothing."