“It’s better than when I had it,” Blasdell murmured, for, as I have said, when Mendez succeeded the former caretaker he had moved the shack from the place where Blasdell had built it, and had considerably improved it. “Much better,” went on the old man. “Them Mexicans ain’t so lazy as I’ve heard. Lucky for me I knowed of that window that didn’t close very tight or I mightn’t have gotten in. And lucky I happened to see Mendez as I did, and learned that he would be away all day. Now I’m in here where can I hide ’em. I don’t dare carry ’em around with me much longer. Folks is beginning to suspect. And I’ll take away that piece I left here, too.”
“What in the world am I stacking up against?” thought the puzzled Tom. He looked out eagerly. Blasdell’s back was turned toward the cot, but the old man did not appear to have anything to hide.
“Can he be out of his mind?” thought Tom.
He heard the man fumbling about, but from his position could not see what he was doing, and Tom dared not put out his head from under the cot.
“There, I guess nobody’ll think of lookin’ for ’em there,” went on the old man. “I s’pose mebby I ought t’ destroy ’em, but they may come in useful some time or other. I’ll leave ’em here, and take away that trinket.”
Then came a sound as if the man had stepped down off a chair, or bench. Tom wished he could see what he had done, but at least he knew that something had been hidden on that side of the room were the stove was.
“Now I wonder if I can get out of the consarned window?” the man murmured. Tom heard him cross the room, and, after a struggle, there came the sound of a jump on the earth outside.
“He’s gone!” murmured Tom, as he listened to the retreating footsteps. Then he scrambled out from under the cot, and began making a hasty search of the room.
If he had hoped to find Ruth’s pin, the cups from Boxer Hall or any of the missing jewelry, Tom was disappointed. He made a thorough, but quick, search, not only in the shack proper, but in the store, though he knew Blasdell had not gone in there.