Parks and Nixon had returned, and were walking about the place.
The former had procured a new suit of clothes and looked more like himself, though his growing beard and mustache served as a sort of disguise.
“What’s up here?” he demanded. “Where’s Gilmore?”
“Here,” called that gentleman from the head of the stairs. “Did you see Geary as you came in?”
“Yes. What’s he rushing around in that way for? Anything wrong?”
“I should say so. Come into the cellar. Turn the key in the front door first.”
Parks did as requested, and then all three men hastened down the cellar stairs.
“Hello, there!”
It was Geary, calling from the other side of the double wall.
“Well?”