Immediately the three others made haste to possess themselves of similar weapons.
"Ready?" asked Paul, as he prepared to advance boldly into the dense darkness.
"Sure! We're going to back you up, old fellow. Say the word!" shrilled Bobolink, close to the other's shoulder.
"Come on, then!"
The lads had hardly advanced five steps when every one caught the dread sound that Joe claimed to have heard. And Paul, perhaps because he was the son of a doctor, somehow guessed its true import sooner than any one of his chums. He knew it was a groan, and that some human being must be suffering!
There was a slight crackling sound, which was caused by the sudden drawing of a match along Paul's trousers. Instantly a tiny flame sprang
into existence; and every eye was strained to discover the cause of the groan.
As the match burned, and the light grew stronger, the boys discovered that some one lay upon the floor inside the glass enclosed office, and close to the desk where Mr. Clausin usually sat. Paul, looking further, had seen that there was a lamp on the stand, and knowing the need of some better means of illumination than a succession of matches, instantly moved forward, and started to remove the chimney of this.
It was still a trifle warm, showing that the light must have been blown out not more than a couple of minutes previously.
Meanwhile, Joe had thrown himself on the floor beside the prostrate form, which he had already recognized as that of his father. He was chafing his hands, and calling out in boyish agony, while Jack and Bobolink looked on with troubled faces.