He was still talking in this manner when they entered the League's quarters and were greeted with the news that burglars had been there the night before.
"Nothin's been touched in any of the offices but yours, Mr. Huber," said the breathless clerk who poured out this story to them; "but there the safe's been blown open, and I don't know what's missin'. I sent for the police right away."
"The police?" said Luke. "Stop your joking, Charley."
"I'm not jokin', Mr. Huber. I did send for them. They've been here. They said they'd have a detective over from headquarters before long."
Luke hurried to his office. Bits of charred blanket and several match-ends lay about the floor. The door of the safe swung lamely upon a single hinge. Inside was a tumbled mass of papers. Otherwise the room seemed undisturbed.
Quickly, Luke ran over the papers in the yawning safe. He looked up at Venable.
"Everything's here," he said.
"Are you sure?" asked Venable.
"Quite." Luke went to his desk. Its lock had been forced. There had been a rude attempt to restore the contents to the order in which Luke had left them when he quitted the office the day before, but he saw at once that everything had been examined. "And they didn't get anything from here, either," he added.
"I wonder what they were after?" said Venable.