the
worst luck in the world if you missed the chance; you mustn't. Come on."

"I seconds that motion," threw in Dollops, though in a somewhat forlorn
voice. "I kin just imagine what it must be like to be a ghost tied up in
a fambly vault, an' it fills me with a feelin' of sympathy for them
creeturs wot I never felt before. Like a blooming messlinoleum this is!"

"Mausoleum, you grammatical wonder!" responded Cleek, and even in his
anxiety he could not refrain from a laugh.

"Well, mausoleum or muskiloleum makes no difference to me, sir. What
I wants ter know is--'ow do we get out of this charmin' little country
seat? Try the trap-door, you ses. Right you are!"

He was up the rough steps like a shot, forgetful of the fact that, though
the door might be closed, there might also be others strolling along in
that secluded spot. Cleek came up now, behind him, and with a caution of
silence steadied himself upon the step below, and pressed his shoulder up
against the heavy door. He pushed and shoved with all his might, while
Dollops aided with every ounce of strength in his young body.

The door responded not one whit. Black Whiskers had done his work well
and thoroughly, possibly as an object-lesson to the absent Jenkins. And
Jenkins, by the way, was the name of Cleek's new-found friend of the
factory. H'm. That was cause for thought. Then Jenkins was more "in the
know" than he had given him credit for. Possibly Black Whiskers knew
already of their conversation at dinner-time. He'd have to close down on
that source of information, at any rate--if they ever got out of this
business alive.

These thoughts passed through Cleek's brain even while his shoulders and
his strength were at work upon the unresponsive door. Only failure marked
their efforts. At last, breathless and exhausted from the strain, Cleek
descended the steps again. He listened, and, hearing nothing, signalled
Dollops to follow him.

"They must have got in somewhere, and here's hoping it wasn't through
this trap-door," he said evenly. "We'll see about it anyway. Unless they
were as careful with the door at the other end. It's a sporting chance,
Dollops my lad, and we've got to take it. I'll use my torch unless we
hear anything. Then we'll have to trust to luck. Heaven alone knows how
far this blessed affair runs on. We'll reach London soon, if we go on
like this!"

"Yus, and find ourselves in Mr. Narkom's office, a-burrowin' under 'is
'Ighness' desk!"