“That would be good,” remarked Bob. “So we’ll have to try to get it back for you. But can’t you give me a clew as to where this Rod might start to look for the wealth? He’ll know where it is, having the map, you see.”
“Oh, yes, he’ll know,” agreed Hiram. “But I can’t say, for the life of me, where it might be.”
“Do you think it would be in Cliffside?”
“Yes, I should say so. Hank never went far from home of late years, and he certainly would keep the treasure near him. He didn’t believe in banks, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. Well, well see what can be done about it. There isn’t anything more I can find out here, since you say there was no secret opening into the strong room.”
“Not an opening, but the chimney.”
“And when we dropped the key down the flue it just fell in the ashes,” said Bob. “So it couldn’t have been that way.”
He remained a little longer, talking to Hiram and puzzling over the queer case, and then rode back to town. As he passed the office of Judge Weston, the lad saw, coming from it, the Italian organ grinder.
Surprised at this, Bob stopped his car and looked after the man who had neither his organ nor monkey with him this time. Then, as the Italian passed on down the street, Judge Weston came out.
So excited that he hardly observed the veneration due the old gentleman, Bob exclaimed: