The stairway was near the massive chimney. As Jimmie passed close to it he stumbled over a loose brick.
“John was right,” he thought. “It did strike the chimney.”
As they reached the third story, the second, then the first, an increasing feeling of relief came over them.
“Cold bolt,” said John as they once more reached the living room. “Cold bolts don’t set anything on fire. They——
“Say!” his tone changed. “What’s that? Look! Only look!”
As his pencil of light played over the floor before the broad fireplace it revealed masses of broken mortar and bricks scattered far and wide. The lightning had done its work well.
This was not what held their eyes glued to the spot. Mingled with the debris were scores of white and blue flashes of light.
“Unset diamonds,” John muttered thickly. “Thousands of dollars worth. The lightning destroyed their place of hiding.
“Here! Quick!” He snatched the evening paper from his pocket. “Spread this out, Mary. Then you two start gathering them up and putting them on the paper while I catch their gleam with this bum lamp.”
For a full ten minutes after that the storm was forgotten. When the wind died down, they did not know. After the last peal of thunder rolled away in the distance and the last flash of lightning came, silence engulfed the room.