Carl hated a "waiting" game. If there was anything going on, he liked to be right in the midst of it. On top of all this, he was vaguely suspicious of everything connected with that telegram.
When Matt went up and knocked on the door of the house, Carl was hoping the summons would not be answered; but when the door opened, and Matt disappeared inside the house, Carl's real worries began.
Pacing back and forth on the walk, the Dutch boy impatiently counted the seconds and checked off the minutes. No sound came from the building, and, after the light had vanished from the hall, not a ray was to be seen at any of the windows.
"I t'ink, py shiminy," muttered Carl to himself, "dot der fifdeen minids vas oop. Vell, I count off fife more schust for goot measure. After dot, oof Matt don'd come, I vill make some infestigations."
Owing to the lateness of the hour, and the obscure section of the town through which that part of Hoyne Street ran, no one passed the front of the house. Carl's solitary vigil was not relieved by the sight of any chance traveler.
Mentally he checked off another five minutes. During the counting he fancied he heard a noise in the house, but it was so muffled and indistinct he could not be sure. Matt did not show himself, and Carl started his investigations.
His first move was to run up the steps and pound on the door. Although he made enough noise to wake the entire neighborhood, he couldn't bring anybody to the entrance. He tried the knob, but found the door fastened. Then he hurled his weight against the door in the hope of breaking it in. The door must have been in better repair than the rest of the house, for it withstood his attack with scarcely a shiver.
Carl's temper was always pretty close to the surface, and his failure to get into the house caused him to forget his forebodings on Matt's account and to get good and mad on his own.
"I vill find Matt oof I haf to preak down a vinder!" fumed Carl, jumping down from the steps and starting to run around the side of the house.