He could not see anything that looked like a door until he came to the end of the hall, and there a small knob informed him that something like a countersunk door might be found.
He unsheathed his knife and held it in his hand.
A strange, buzzing sound came from the other side of the heavy stone wall, but Barry could not distinguish anything more than the fact that human voices formed part of the sound.
“Without doubt, this is one of their down-stairs work-rooms,” said Barry, as he held one ear close to the wall in a vain effort to catch some clear sound from the other side of the massive masonry. “I must lay off there until some one comes out. I’ll wait hours before I’ll budge, unless some new danger drives me away.”
This man’s patience in carrying out such an idea was remarkable.
He crouched down upon the floor, seeking the shady side of the wall, and lay at ease, calmly waiting for some one to appear.
One, two, three, four long hours dragged wearily by, and no one came forth to reward his watching; but beyond a slight change of position, the secret service man stirred not from his post.
Then the portion of the wall intersected by the knob spoken of before swung slowly open, and as Barry Brown looked up, he beheld a man standing before him with a gleaming sword uplifted, as if to cut the daring spy.
When Frank and Charley parted company on the plains, in consequence of something being the matter with the Steam Man, Harry Hale fumed and fretted greatly over the delay.