They went over the house. Every drawer was turned upside down, every closet awry, every place, where the jewels could be concealed, bore evidence of having been inspected—nothing, apparently, had been missed. They had gone through the house completely, even into the garret, where every board that was loose had evidently been taken up and replaced—some of them carelessly.
Not a thing was gone, so far as Croyden could judge—possibly, because there was no money in the house; probably, because they were looking for jewels, and scorned anything of moderate value.
“Really, this thing grows interesting—if it were not so ridiculous,” said Croyden. “I’m willing to go to almost any trouble to convince them I 246 haven’t the treasure—just to be rid of them. I wonder what they will try next?”
“Abduction, maybe,” Macloud suggested. “Some night a black cloth will be thrown over your head, you’ll be tossed into a cab—I mean, an automobile—and borne off for ransom like Charlie Ross of fading memory.”
“Moral—don’t venture out after sunset!” laughed Croyden.
“And don’t venture out at any time without a revolver handy and a good pair of legs,” added Macloud.
“I can work the legs better than I can the revolver.”
“Or, to make sure, you might have a guard of honor and a gatling gun.”
“You’re appointed to the position—provide yourself with the gun!”
“But, seriously!” said Macloud, “it would be well to take some precaution. They seem obsessed with the idea that you have the jewels, here—and they evidently intend to get a share, if it’s possible.”