“I don’t believe anyone is there. Let’s take a closer look.”
Alvin struck a match from his safe and led the way, thus saving the two from the mishap that had overtaken their friend. They were a trifle nervous when they stepped upon the lower floor, Alvin maintaining the illumination by burning more matches. He climbed upon the counter, and lighted the large oil lamp suspended there for such purpose. Adjusting the wick to the highest point it would stand without smoking, the two looked around.
What they saw completed the story that had already taken shape in their own minds. The unbroken dark lantern lay on the floor where it had fallen, the light having been extinguished. The raised window showed by what avenue the burglar and Mike had left the building, but what amazed the youths more than anything else was the wide open door of the safe. Not a burglar’s tool or device was in sight, and the appearance of the lock and door without a scratch showing proved that no part of the structure had been tampered with. It was just as if Mrs. Friestone had manipulated it—as she had done times without number.
“Whoever opened it must have known the combination. And how did he learn it?”
Chester shook his head.
“Perhaps Mrs. Friestone can guess. I’ll ask her.”
Going to the foot of the stairs, the young man called to the woman just loudly enough for her to hear. He said the visitors had left, but the door of the safe was open and it was advisable for her to come down and take a look at things.
She timidly came down the steps, with Nora tremblingly clinging to her skirts, ready to scream and dash back to the front of the house on the first appearance of danger. But nothing occurred to cause new alarm, and mother and daughter stared wonderingly at the safe with its wide open door.
“Who did that?” asked the woman, in a faint voice.
“One of the burglars,” replied Chester.