“No; but I’ll write, and I’ll expect you to do the same.”
And so the two parted firm friends.
Several days went by and Bob stuck diligently to his work, much to Mr. Starleigh’s satisfaction. He saw nothing of Grace Maverick, and in a roundabout way learned that the young lady was away on a brief trip to the seashore.
The building in which the photographic studio was situated was a large one, containing over two dozen offices. A hall ran through the middle as far as the top floor, and there was also a rear hall on the second and third stories.
On the evening of the fourth day Bob was left to lock up alone, Mr. Starleigh having gone away on business, and the other assistant being sick. Bob remained behind a little later than usual, being anxious to finish mounting a set of landscapes, which were to be called for the next day.
It was dark when Bob finished and stepped out into the hall-way. Locking up securely, he started to go below.
Presently he heard the murmur of voices on the floor below. He looked down, and saw three men coming up the second flight of stairs.
The hall-way was too dark to distinguish faces. But as the three men turned and entered an office near the landing just below Bob, the youth recognized the voices.
The men were Casco, Barker, and Grogan.
What had brought them to the place, and at this hour in the evening?