Frank was starting the disclosure of his idea by setting down a premise on which to work logically to his conclusion.
“Now, if it is black, then the logical place to hide it is where everything else is black. Is that right?”
“Up the flue!” exclaimed Lanky Wallace happily.
Before Frank could answer, before he could turn to make an investigation, the lean lad had dived past him to the fireplace, had stooped to the hearth, and a long arm was reaching far up the flue—on to the ledge which is formed at the top of all fireplaces, and out of there, covered with soot, bringing down a perfect storm of the black, sifting, fine powder, he brought a metal box!
He shook it. There was no doubt. It was black—it was metal—and it contained a great many pieces of things which seemed to be small.
Frank took it and looked at the lock. It was locked, he ascertained. Was this the thing they wanted? Every circumstantial indication pointed to an affirmative. But he thought they should be sure, rather than take back a box full of something else than jewels.
He remembered seeing an old case-knife on the kitchen table, and one of the boys brought it quickly.
With this they pried open the top, tearing the lock loose, and opened the cover. There, exposed to their gaze in the dim yellow glow of the oil-lamp, lay diamonds, sapphires, rings, necklaces, all sorts and kinds of jewels and fancy pieces of women’s jeweled wear! The loot from the Parsons’ safe!
They had expected this—yet they gasped in surprise and delight.
“Come on, fellows. We’ve got what Jed Marmette stole from his thieving friends, and we’ve found the jewels for Mrs. Parsons. This is all too good to be true! Let’s get back to the chief.”