Hartley pulled out the portfolio and opened it; he spread some papers on the table.
They were quickly examined, and then all three men looked at each other blankly.
“Jericho!” gasped Hartley. “Where are the diagrams, Cecil?”
“They ought to be here!”
“But they are not!”
Clifford and Hartley were aghast.
“What has become of them?” he gasped, weakly. “My soul, Hartley, you don’t believe that they have been stolen?”
“Stolen!” exclaimed the captain in a hollow voice. “That is their fate. Cecil, we are ruined men!”
Frank glanced from one to the other.
“Who could have stolen them?” he asked.