She stopped suddenly.
“What’s that? Tenants stumping around overhead? Rats in the wainscoting? There are rats.” She listened intently, switching off the light hanging over her bed.
“That old-fashioned brass lock will be easy to open with a skeleton key,” she decided. “If they are coming here it will be only a moment before they are in the room.” Grabbing her tell-tale hat and gloves and small bag, she dived under the bed, the pretty dimity spread hanging down on the side making a curtain for her retreat.
The town clock was striking twelve as the skeleton key finally unlocked the door. Josie lay very still listening eagerly.
“We might just as well switch on the light,” said a man’s voice.
“A bit imprudent, but, of course, nobody in this stupid old town would notice.” The voice was undoubtedly Mrs. Markle’s.
“I fancy everybody, even the police force, is asleep by now,” laughed the man.
Josie felt for her detective’s badge pinned in the breast pocket of her dress, and smiled happily in her retreat behind the dimity spread.
“Here is the book, Felix, exactly where that dull little O’Gorman girl put it. Do you think you will ever be able to make out the code?”
“Sure! There is no code I can’t work. It may take time but it will be great fun to find out what that old devil O’Gorman thought of us. It will be helpful too to find out exactly what he knew; and think of destroying all trace of our identity.”