He dug up the key and handed it to McGlory.
"Well," declared McGlory, "if Motor Matt and Wily Bill went in there, and didn't come out again, we'll find them."
"If the Chinaman didn't find them," struck in Twomley, "they must have come out."
"We'll soon know what's what," and the cowboy made his way to the door, thrust the key into the lock, and pushed the door ajar.
The same dark, funereal silence that had greeted Ping stared McGlory, Burton, and Twomley in the face.
"My no findee," chattered Ping, drawing back; "you no findee."
McGlory pressed into the hall.
"I'll take the rooms on the left," said he, "and the rest of you take the ones on the right. Do your bushwhacking, and then, if you don't find anything, meet me at the foot of the stairs for a look overhead."
Nothing was found. The back door was securely bolted on the inside, and all the windows and blinds of the various lower windows firmly fastened.
The situation upstairs was exactly the same. Puzzled and bewildered, the party returned to the lower hall.