"Carlton—"
"Mr. Carlton sent us to secure," concluded Corrigan.
"Eh, bien! Enter then. This is the way. It is here Mr. Carlton sleeps. A pleasant room, you see. Books, magazines, and even a plant in bloom. He is fond of flowers."
"I am not surprised," murmured Corrigan with a shrug. "A gentleman—as I asserted. The radiator is here, Tim. That must be the board. Take it up carefully so not to splinter it and deface the flooring. No doubt it will come easily."
"The floor—you are not going to tear up the floor!" cried the woman excitedly.
"Only one board," was the soothing answer. "We shall do no injury to your premises."
"But surely Mr. Carlton would not hide things away under the floor; only thieves do that." She laughed a tremulous, half-frightened laugh at the absurdity of the jest.
"How about it, Tim? Is it coming?" questioned Corrigan, ignoring the pleasantry.
"It stirs, sir; but it is not so loose as you might expect. Didn't Blake bring a chisel?"
"Yes, it's here. Why not run a knife down that crack and see if you can't raise the board a little. If you can lift it enough to slip something under it will come up," directed the chief.