"Yes, and we'd better forget that if there happens to be any trouble inside. I think we'd better go in and investigate. This doesn't look exactly good to me."
He took a key from his pocket—a key to the front door of the museum, that had been given him for just such an emergency. He unlocked the door and went in with two of the others, locking the door behind him.
They hurried through the entrance and started down the corridor toward the wide stairs that led to the floor above. The one in advance gave a cry of horror and started forward. Stretched on the marble floor were policemen and museum guards, unconscious, and plainly drugged in some manner.
"Call headquarters!" one of the policemen shrieked. "Get the chief!"
Another ran to the nearest telephone, which happened to be in the office of the custodian. Within a short time he had the chief on the wire.
"This is Officer Riley, at the museum," he said. "There's something wrong here. No guard showed up at the front door at the end of the hour, and so we came inside. We found all the guards and officers unconscious, laid out!"
"What's that?" the chief cried. "What laid 'em out? What's happened out there?"
"We just got inside the building—haven't had time to investigate—don't know what's been going on!" Officer Riley gasped. "Thought I'd better call you at once."
"Keep your eyes open—we'll be right up there!" the chief cried. "Keep right on the job!"
"Better bring the police surgeon with you, chief. There seems to be something wrong with these men."