“Can there be a cellar under the house?” questioned one of the others.
“There is no cellar,” said Murillo simply. “There is a little hole, half full of water. You can look down if you wish.”
“We will.”
What could it mean? We held our breath as the old man led the way to the apartment used as a kitchen. We heard him raise another trapdoor, some distance behind us.
“Humph! A man would be a fool to get in there!” we heard the officer remark, and then the trap was dropped again into place. “We will go.”
The soldiers passed through the kitchen and toward the front door. One of them must have taken a last look around, for suddenly he uttered a cry.
“Ha! what is this? A collar and a tie! Do you wear these?”
“Confound it, my collar and tie,” murmured Burnham. “I knew I forgot something.”
“They belong to my nephew,” said Murillo calmly.