“But suppose a policeman heard it as he passed?”
“Well, he’d hear it and say to himself, ‘They’ve got the workpeople in.’”
“But—”
“Oh, blow your buts, old man! Did the police come to see what was the matter when the men took out the kitchener and put in a new one?”
“No, but—”
“But you’re in a stew. That’s what’s the matter. Give us hold. Thinnest wedge, and the hammer, and you hold the light. That piece of leather will stop the sound.”
The butler sighed, but obeyed his companion, handing him a steel wedge with an edge as fine as the blade of a knife. Then he held the light close while his companion gently tapped it in between the door and frame.
Another followed, and another—quite a dozen, of increasing sizes, having been brought; and the leather-covered hammer deadened the sound greatly, while the crack grew larger, and it seemed pretty certain that the steel wedges would sooner or later force open the door.
“See this?” said the operator, triumphantly.
“Oh yes, I see, but I’m in a bath o’ perspiration.”