Then the two men went to the locker, intending to drag Leo forth, gag him, and roll him up as though he were a bundle of clothes.
“Gone!” burst from Griswold’s lips.
He spoke the truth. The locker was empty.
“How did he manage it?” queried Broxton, in deep perplexity.
Griswold looked dumfounded for a moment. Then he grated his teeth in rage.
“Fools that we are!” he shouted. “To forget that he is a gymnast. Why, he must have freed himself within a minute after we locked him in.”
“By thunder! that’s so. But how did he get out of the locker?”
“I don’t know.”
“The door was locked, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”