Rolfe saw that, after all, there was some danger of detection, and admitted it.
“Then let’s wait a bit,” his companion whispered. “By patience we may be able to escape without detection. Don’t let us act indiscreetly.”
So the pair, leaning against one of the stands of dead flowers, waited in silence, their ears strained to catch every sound. The moments seemed hours, until at last, all being quiet, Max, at his friend’s suggestion pressed the electric button of the little hand-lamp and showed a light upon the door.
It was half of glass, with strong lock and double bolts. To escape meant to break away a hole large enough for a man’s body to pass. Max suggested that they might find the key hanging somewhere upon a nail, as conservatory keys are often kept, in that manner. But though they searched the whole place, treading lightly as they went, they were unable to discover it.
“Levi keeps it upon his bunch, I expect,” Charlie remarked. “I’ve never seen this door open in my life.”
“That’s why the flowers are all dead, perhaps,” Max remarked grimly with a low laugh.
“Flowers! Old Sam declared that they were no use to him, therefore he forbade Levi to give them any water, and they all died. The old man isn’t fond of flowers. Says they’re only useful at weddings and funerals.”
“There won’t be many at his obsequies!” laughed Max beneath his breath, as he made another examination of the door.
Both agreed that to open it was impossible, while to break out the glass was far too risky a proceeding, for some of it must fall upon the paving outside.
Rain had begun to fall, pattering heavily upon the glass roof above; and as they were both searching about blindly for some other mode of egress Max suddenly exclaimed: