In this last he was wrong. When the little band, Johnny, Drew, Tom and the hulking Spider, reached the place, they found it dark. There was no answer to the bell, nor to repeated rapping. When they unlocked the door and, flashlights in left hands, guns in right, made the rounds of the place, they found it deserted and still. The rooms were rented furnished. The furniture was there, but not a garment, not a scrap of paper, not a single article that told of occupation.
“They are gone for good,” was Drew’s pronouncement.
“And yet I saw them this very afternoon,” Johnny said soberly. “Saw the bonds, too. To think I once had them and I lost them so easily!”
“We all make mistakes,” Drew consoled. “We’re getting hotter and hotter on their trail. We’ll get them, you’ll see, and that very soon.”
They left the place in silence, locking the door behind them.
They made their way to the “House of Magic,” where Felix joined them.
“Find anyone?” he asked.
“Gone!” was Johnny’s reply.
“I was afraid they might be. But that thing worked—that’s the best of it. A little more work on it and we’ll be ready to turn it over to those who can make the best use of it.”
“By the way, Johnny,” Drew Lane put in, “you should have a phone in your room. You may have something to report any time.”