Jack had observed a closed door, near the piano, and the others followed pell-mell behind him and Captain Folsom. Frank, the last to enter, closed the door and, finding his hand encounter a key, turned it in the lock.
None too soon. They could hear shouts and curses, as the mob surged up the stairway.
Jack, meanwhile, had been flashing Tom’s torch 127 about and, discovering a wall switch, had pressed a button. At once an electric light in the ceiling flashed on, revealing that they were in a large pantry. Bottles of liquor stood about and, on a tray, were a number of sandwiches.
“That black butler was preparing to feed his boss,” surmised Frank. “Well, those chicken sandwiches look all right. I’m goin’ to have one. Hungry.”
And without more ado, Frank took a sandwich and began eating.
“Great stuff,” he said.
“Say, you, come on,” called Jack, smiling a little, nevertheless, despite his anxiety. “Think of eating at a time like this!”
“Why not?” said Frank, polishing off the first sandwich and taking another. “Well, lead on, Macduff. Where you going?”
“There’s no way out of this except by the cellar,” Jack replied, already having opened the other door of the pantry and shot the rays of his searchlight down the stairway. “Shall we try it?”
“We can’t stay here,” answered Captain Folsom. “They’re searching the rooms above us right now, by the sound of it. Soon they’ll be down here. And we can’t go out through the living room, because I’ve withdrawn the key and peeped through the keyhole 128 in the door and can see two men on guard at the foot of the stairway.”