The girls looked quickly about them. The light showed them that they were in some sort of office. There were desks and chairs in it, and on the desk were a number of papers, while innumerable tickets were scattered about. The girls attached no significance to them at first. There was an incandescent lamp swinging above the desk, and Cora turned the black key. At once there was light, showing that the gasoline engine, the rumble of which could still be heard, operated a small dynamo.
“Oh, what shall we do?” gasped Bess.
“Listen!” whispered Cora.
From the cave outside came the murmur of excited and angry voices. There followed sounds of great activity, as if boxes and barrels were being moved about. Once or twice came a snarl from the idiot, and the commanding voice of the old man. The other voices the girls could not recognize.
“I’m going to call for help,” said Cora. “That may be the boys come to rescue us. Come on, girls! We’ll all shriek!”
This they did, uniting their shrill voices in an appeal for help. Cora caught up a paper-weight from the desk and hammered on the door of their prison. But neither their calls nor the pounding brought an answer. The noise in the outer cave continued. The men seemed to be quarreling among themselves now.
Then came silence. The girls called again but with no result. They listened. Not a sound came from beyond the door.
“What has happened?” asked Bess.
“I can’t even guess,” Cora said. “But don’t worry. We’ll get out of here some time. Meanwhile, let’s see if we can by any means open the door.”
Events were now happening in several different places—events connected with the boys and the counterfeiters.