There was now heard for an instant a sharp scratching sound, followed by a jingle of glass, and then the window was raised up.
"We can get in now," remarked the one who had opened the window; and tossing in his gripsack, he sprung in after it, followed by his companions.
Budd and his partner rose and crept under the window, listening eagerly yet apprehensively for the next words the men should speak, for they now suspected the character of their visitors, and knew it would go hard with them if they were discovered.
"Some one does live here, boys, sure enough. These things weren't here at all a few months ago," said the leader, a moment later.
"Well, whoever they are, evidently they are not here just now, and we'll look around. Perhaps we'll find something worth taking, even if we have to leave," said the man who had been called Tom.
As his voice reached the listening boys, Budd caught Judd's arm convulsively.
"I believe I know that man," he whispered into his astonished comrade's ear.
"All right," was the response of the other men to Tom's suggestion, and they passed on into the sitting-room.
Budd nudged his chum, crept around to the east end of the house, and stood up by the sitting room window. The curtain was lowered, but not quite far enough to reach the sill, and through this narrow opening he gave a quick look at the three men. Then he pulled Judd, who had followed him, back into the shadow of the building and said, hoarsely:
"It is as I thought. The man they call Tom is Thomas H. Bagsley, who worked in the same office with my father for several years, and he is as big a rascal as there is outside of prison-walls. If I only had him in my power I'd wring a confession out of him that would change my whole future life;" and there was a bitterness in the lad's words that was akin to hatred.