Frank sprang off of the lounge and began putting on his clothes.
"I could sleep all day, I think," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I never felt so sleepy in my life."
"No wonder, after the strain you have been under for the last forty-eight hours. That was one reason why I insisted upon your coming home with me. I want you to get thoroughly rested and refreshed; then you will be able to show what you are made of in working out our scheme. That hole in the wall may do well enough for newsboys and bootblacks, but it is no place for a boy like you."
"It served me a good turn the other night, all the same."
"I don't dispute that. By the way, how did you manage to get into the vault that night? Through the iron door on the New Church street side?"
"Yes, that was the way."
"I thought as much. I took a good look at the place and its surroundings before I entered. I thought I had sized it up pretty well."
"But how did you come to guess the entrance lay beneath that particular tombstone?" asked Frank, stooping to tie his shoes. "I didn't know myself where it was, although I knew there was some way of getting in from above."
The detective smiled.
"If I told you all I knew," he replied, pleasantly, "why, then you'd know as much as I do myself, and would have no further use for my services. No, no, young man, I am working for money. Under the will of your grandfather you are justly entitled to a large fortune, which through your own folly and the machinations of that man Callister has come mighty near slipping through your hands, if it has not already done so. My work now is to help you to the recovery of this fortune. Once you are in possession of it, I shall expect to be paid. Then ask me for my secrets, and I may tell you; meanwhile, we will see what kind of a breakfast my landlady has sent us up this morning, talk matters over together, and decide what is the first step to take."