“Walk straight up the steps, Motor Matt,” ordered Tibbits, “and on into the house. I’ll follow and tell you which way to go. Be nice about it, and nothing will happen.”
Matt mounted the steps. Tibbits backed to one side, to let him pass, and the hall light shone over his face. Matt looked at him sharply. The man was a stranger, and he was positive he had never seen him before. This was another fact to clinch Matt’s theory that Tibbits and his pals were making a mistake.
Up the steps, through the great doors, and into a richly furnished hall Matt passed, Tibbits, still with the revolver aimed, following him closely.
“Keep straight on along the hall,” ordered Tibbits.
Matt kept on. The musty, close odor of a house, long shut up, assailed his nostrils, and offered proof that Dimmock had told the truth when he asserted that the family were in Europe.
“That door on the right,” said Tibbits. “Go in there.”
Matt opened the door. As he closed it behind him he heard the rasp of a key in the lock, and the “click” of a thrown bolt.
“Pard!” came an overjoyed yell.
The next moment Matt was caught and given a bear’s hug.
“Joe!” exclaimed the delighted Matt.