To Bob’s delight he found that he had a good view of the interior of Jolly Bill’s room, and he had sight of that individual himself, sitting on the edge of his bed and vigorously stretching himself as a preliminary to his morning ablutions.
Bill’s wooden leg was unstrapped from the stump, and lay on a chair near him, as did the heavy cane he used to balance himself, for he was a stout man.
“It couldn’t be better—if it works out the way I think it will,” mused the lad. Eagerly and anxiously he watched now for the next move on the part of the old sailor. For it was on this move that much might depend.
Having stretched himself, and rubbed his eyes to remove therefrom as much as possible of the “sleep,” by a process of dry washing, Jolly Bill prepared for his day’s activities by reaching out for his wooden leg.
“Now,” whispered Bob to himself, as he stood gazing through his peep-hole in the painted transom, “am I right or am I wrong? It won’t take long to tell if things work out the way I expect they will. Steady now!” he told himself.
Jolly Bill pulled his wooden leg toward him as he sat on the bed. He must strap it on before he could begin stumping about to begin his day of “work,” whatever that mysterious occupation was.
And then, as Bob watched, the old sailor, with a look toward the window, to make sure the shades were pulled down, plunged his hand into the interior of his wooden leg.
This artificial limb, like many of its kind, was hollow to make it lighter. There was quite a cavity within.
Another look toward the curtained window, but never a glance did Jolly Bill bestow on the painted transom over the door between his room and the cubbyhole. Why should he look there? No one had occupied it since he had been in the Mansion House. And it was unoccupied when Bill went to bed last night. He had made sure of that as he always did. But Bob had come in since.
And then, as the young detective peered through his peep-hole, he saw a sight which thrilled him.