Picking up a knapsack from the stone floor, he began to take out toilet articles—a razor, a mirror and shaving cream.
“You know you have no right to be living here,” Brad burst out. “How did you get in, anyhow? Through the coal chute?”
“I did the first time. After that, I used the door.”
“But this church was supposed to be locked. Terry checks on the place, or at least he’s supposed to.”
“The caretaker’s a nice old codger, but not very alert. If he had been, he’d never have left a key lying around.”
“You found it?” Brad questioned.
“It may not have been his,” the stranger admitted. “I came upon it the day I holed in here. Found it lying on a window sill, and discovered it unlocked one of the doors. So I’ve used it ever since. Convenient.”
“Terry probably was afraid to admit to the trustees that he had lost one of his keys!” Dan exclaimed. “Say, he could have cleared up a lot of things for our Den, if he’d acted right!”
No longer uneasy in the stranger’s presence, the two boys now plied him with eager questions. Did he live in the belfry because he had no money? How long had he been in Webster City?
“Don’t fire ’em at me so fast,” the man chuckled. “I haven’t been out of the army very long. I have a little money, but I’m trying to make it last until I get a certain job I’m after. Besides, I have another little matter here in Webster City—”