“Day dreaming?” It was Tom Howe, the young detective.
“Yes—no, I—” Jimmie stammered confusedly.
“Well, snap out of it,” said Tom. “Come on down to the Plaza. I’ve got a thing or two to tell you.”
“And I’ve got something to show you,” said Jimmie, reaching for his camera.
“There’s been a fresh development down there in the block where we saw those crooks stop their truck. You know the place?” said Tom.
“Yes,—ah, yes,” Jimmie had a vaguely uneasy feeling that he should know more.
“There’s a mysterious tapping at night,” said Tom. “As if someone were working underground, perhaps cutting a tunnel toward some vault.”
“Vault,” Jimmie thought with a start, “those silver fox skins are in a vault.” He started to speak but in the end said nothing. What chance was there that this was the same location? There were thousands of city blocks.
“A night watchman has been hearing it,” Tom went on. “Has heard it two nights. His firm manufactures machinery for binderies, all massive stuff. Couldn’t be after that. Question is, what are they after? That’s what we’ve got to find out.
“By the way!” he exclaimed, “You remember those Alaskan matches we found on the floor?”