Not a circuit was broken. Not a wire had been cut.
“Very strange,” even Grover was baffled, “the current is on, full strength, in each circuit. Try to get in.”
Roger, at a signal from the Falcon man, worked on the door locks with the keys that rightfully opened them; while the man, on a ladder outside a window, tried to pry open catches or shift the burglar stopper built into the casing. No success.
“The man may be dying,” the Falcon agent grumbled, “and we stay out here, testing.”
Roger, too, wondered at such callous but methodically exact procedure.
Grover, paying no attention to their tell-tale faces, calmly inserted his key in the secret cable-slot, and cut out the circuits.
At once Roger was able to turn his door key.
They hurried in.
As he looked around, at the crumpled bed sheets, at the hollow on the pillow, Roger knew that a man had slept there. How had he been spirited away? The closet was wide open, and although clothing had been flung down, although bureau and chifforobe drawers had been upset as if in a search for something, no signs of violence showed.
“Get the record from the phonograph,” Grover had made swift inspection, “and the camera film. They operated, of course. You can see the grooved track on the record. We cannot waste time looking for clues here. They will come from our spies, the film and record, at the studio.”