He sat down on the doorsill again and waited. A porcupine was rattling and thrashing on the thin, top branches of a maple tree. Ronnie watched it for a while. The animal didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
The afternoon wore on, but no tourists appeared. Ronnie got up and started slowly down the path. It wouldn’t hurt to take one quick trip around the locked-up building and maybe steal a peek through the crack in the shutter. Then he could climb up on the roof and sit there for a time. He could see so much more from up there, and if a car came up the dirt road, he’d know about it in time to get back to the office.
He circled around the old office building as he’d planned and then he climbed up on the log and peered through the window. Everything looked just about the same as the last time, except for some white objects scattered about the floor. He couldn’t make out what they were because of the darkness, but he decided they might be pieces of paper.
Well, he’d take one more quick look at the outside of the building and then he’d get up on the roof and see if he could spot any river boats on the St. Lawrence. But when he got around to the rear of the building, something on the ground caught his eye. Nothing very startling, but the thin layer of sawdust sprinkled on top of some of the leaves set him wondering. Carpenter ants, maybe—or had someone been sawing firewood? Mr. Caldwell, perhaps, the boy concluded.
But when he looked about for some sign of the white butt ends of the discarded pieces of logs that would surely be left lying around, he found none. His brow puckered in a frown.
He gathered a pinch of the sawdust and brought it up closer to his face so he could examine it, rolling it around between his fingers to get the feel of it. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt fresh. Maybe this sawdust could help him find out how the stranger was getting into the building.
He turned to inspect the rear wall of the building. At first glance it looked just like all the other walls. But when he looked closer he found a faint, irregular crack following the contour of the shingles. Tracing it, he discovered that it formed a rough square. “I’ll bet that whole section comes out!” he whispered. Apparently the shingles had been removed first, then a hole cut through the boards between the studs, and the shingles nailed cleverly back in place.
Ronnie remembered the tools that Bill’s father had found missing from his barn. Someone, the boy thought, had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure that no one found his entranceway!
He’d have to try the trap door out, of course, to see how it worked. He gripped the shingles from underneath and pushed up gently. The section moved and then the bottom came free; and a minute later the entire piece had come away from the wall.
Ronnie poked his head inside and looked around. The air smelled stale and moldy. He heard the flutter of wings beating against the inside of the chimney and knew that one of the swifts was entering the nest. In the semidarkness he could make out some of the larger objects in the room—the fireplace, an old-fashioned roll-top desk, a filing cabinet, and several chairs.