"And out the front door?"
"It's probably only bolted on the inside. If we can get past the door of that workroom we should be all right."
"Come on, then."
Frank led the way. He stepped out on the landing. Both boys were wearing light "sneakers" that made little noise.
Step by step, they descended the stairs. Step by step, they drew closer to the landing that led to the counterfeiters' room. They could hear the muffled sound of the printing press and the vague voices of the three men.
They reached the landing at last. A streak of yellow light shone from beneath the door of the workroom. The stairs led on toward the bottom of the mill.
Each lad held his breath as he traversed the dangerous distance to the next flight of stairs. Here, if anywhere, they were in danger of being heard.
But the low voices within the room continued; the steady rumble of the press went on without interruption. Frank gained the top of the steps. Joe followed.
They went slowly down the stairs. Frank could see the dim outlines of the mill machinery in the large room below, with the dark shape of the door in the distance. Once they gained the door they would be comparatively safe.
The thought had hardly crossed his mind when his foot struck suddenly against some solid object.