Morrow went carefully over every inch of the room and the curtained recess back of it, but could find no evidence 103 such as he sought. At length, however, just before the little desk in the corner where James Brunell kept his modest accounts, the detective’s foot touched a metal ring in the floor. Stepping back from it, he seized the ring and pulled it. A small square section of the flooring yielded, and the raising of the narrow trap-door disclosed a worn, sanded stone stairway leading down into the cellar beneath.
Blaine’s operative listened carefully but no sound came from the depths below him; so after a time, with his light carefully shielded, he essayed a gingerly descent. On the bottom step he paused. There was small need for him to go further. He had found what he sought. Emily Brunell’s father was a forger indeed!
CHAPTER IX
GONE!
Guy Morrow, after a sleepless night, presented himself at Henry Blaine’s office the next morning. The great detective, observing his young subordinate with shrewd, kindly eyes, noted in one swift glance his changed demeanor: his pallor, and the new lines graven about the firm mouth, which added strength and maturity to his face. If he guessed the reason for the metamorphosis, Blaine gave no sign, but listened without comment until Morrow had completed his report.
“You obeyed my instructions?” he asked at length. “When you discovered the forgery outfit in the cellar of Brunell’s shop, you left everything just as it had been––left no possible trace of your presence?”
“Yes, sir. There’s not a sign left to show any one had disturbed the place. I am sure of that.”
“Not a foot-print in the earth of the cellar steps?”