“There must be some other opening!” insisted Ned.
“Well, the best way is to have a look,” suggested Bob. “Now the crowd seems to be gone for good, let’s have a look.” For the throng of curious ones had followed the organ grinder down the mountain trail, it seemed. Not often did one of these traveling musicians, if such they may be called, invade Storm Mountain, and the simple inhabitants of that isolated and rural community welcomed their visits.
Such careful examination as Bob and his chums, with the aid of the police chiefs and Jolly Bill Hickey, gave to the strong room, or vault in the log cabin, revealed no visible means by which a large brass key could have been passed inside after the door was locked.
The keyhole theory was, obviously, not to be mentioned again. A moment’s test proved the utter impossibility of forcing the key through the opening by which the lock was operated. And, granting that the key could have been pushed through the hole into which it was intended to be inserted, it would merely have dropped on the floor inside, and would not have fallen near the hand of the stricken man.
The walls of the room appeared very solid, nor was any hollow sound developed when they were tapped.
“How about a trap door in the floor?” asked Ned, when it had been fairly well established that there was no opening through the walls.
“That’s so!” cried Chief Drayton. “I never thought of that! There must be a trap door!”
There wasn’t much he really thought of until some one else suggested it, be it noticed.
But hopeful and feasible as this plan seemed when Ned had mentioned it, nothing developed. The floor was smooth and without any secret flap or trap door, as far as they could see.
“Well, I guess well just have to give it up,” said the Storm Mountain officer with a gesture of despair. “I’ll have to work along the line of catching the criminal. If I do that and get back Hiram’s box of valuable papers I guess that will be all I’m expected to do.”