“I don't know what I think; but we'd better go back.”
“He'll think we're spying on him, and I don't want to get the rough edge of his tongue.”
“Neither do I,” agreed Williams. “I'll tell you what we'd better do—we'll go get Jake Benson, and have him go back with us. I tell you we'd be doing all wrong to leave the boss alone there. I don't feel right about it.”
As they were standing on the corner in front of the lawyer's house, this took only a moment; and as the three men turned back toward the shops, Williams briefly explained his fears to Benson, who at each word quickened his pace; they arrived at the office panting and out of breath, but there was no light there now, the frosted panes showed white and clear.
“He's not here—thank the Lord!” said Williams.
“Gone home, I guess,” suggested Shanley.
“Have you your key?” asked Benson of the bookkeeper. “If you have we'll go in and make sure.”
Williams unlocked the door and pushed it open; then he struck a match and rather cautiously entered the room. The others followed him close, treading softly.
“No, he's gone sure enough,” said Williams, giving a sigh of relief. “Probably he's home by this time.”
“Of course he's home if he ain't here!” insisted Shanley. “Well, you've given us a pretty scare!”