And Grows Dangerous.
The key the men possessed admitted them at once and the other portmanteau was opened, ready for use—a use which soon became plain.
“Think it’ll be all right this time?” said Roach, who was in an intense state of excitement.
“Dunno till I try,” was the reply. “Light up and look sharp.”
Roach turned to the second portmanteau, which stood inside the door, and took out a dark lantern. Then striking a match, he lit it, and in obedience to a word from his young companion, he held up the cover of the iron door key-hole with one hand, and directed the full glare of the bull’s-eye on the opening with the other.
Arthur had not been idle. Hastily doubling his overcoat, he made of it a pad to kneel upon, and then taking a bright new key from out of a piece of tissue paper, he began to try if it would fit.
“All right,” he whispered, “it goes splendidly.”
“Well done,” panted Roach. “But be quick.”
“Quick be blowed! Don’t you be so jolly nervous; there’s no one to interrupt us now.”
“Well, turn the key.”