“Wonder how long this lockup is going to last, Henri?”
“Until the shutters are put up in front, I suppose, Billy.”
“That’s entirely too long for me,” impatiently asserted the boy from Bangor. “Let’s see if there isn’t some other outlet to this den.”
But with all the sounding and pounding they could do, the lads found no back way to the dismal room.
And, too, they were baffled again and again by the mechanism of the sliding door by which they had entered.
Nothing more to do than to await the pleasure of the silversmith, and so they awaited, hour upon hour, seated on a rickety sofa, nursing their chins in their hands.
The one little, cobwebby window at the top of the dingy wall in front of them no longer showed light.
Then there was a click, a faint squeak, and Ricker appeared in the opening, cleared by the movement of the sliding case.
“Have they gone?” eagerly inquired Henri.
“Apparently so, but Hamar is out now to make sure that they have not set a watch on the place.”