THE WAITER MEETS WITH A SURPRISE.
Soon Max heard the approaching car turn out of the main road into the
lane, and a moment or two later he could dimly see a bulky, shadowy
object gliding up the latter.
“Stop!” said a cautious voice, which the waiter instantly recognized as
that of Alfred Atherton. “Here’s the door, I think. You can switch on
the light for a moment now, for there’ll be nobody about at this hour of
the morning.”
The electric searchlights of the car flashed out, and by their dazzling
illumination the waiter saw that the car was a big, open touring car,
and contained five men. The front seat was occupied by the
chauffeur--who was a stranger to Max--and Atherton. In the rear seat
were three other men, all of whom, strangely enough, were known by sight
and reputation to the man in the tree.
One of them, of course, was Jack Frost, the well-groomed man about town,
whom Max had seen at the Marmawell Club a few hours earlier. His
presence in the machine was no surprise to the waiter, for he had
expected to see him there, but, at the sight of the other two, Max had
hard work to suppress an exclamation of incredulous amazement.
The distinguished-looking man who was seated on Frost’s right was the
famous Professor Tufts, a scientist of country-wide reputation. The
little man with the crafty face, who was seated on Frost’s left, was the
well-known society lawyer, named Frank Kinsley, who was popularly
supposed to know more of the family secrets of the “Four Hundred” than
any man in New York.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” was the waiter’s inward declaration, as he
restrained himself with an effort from making a start that might have
dislodged him from his precarious position. “It was enough of a poser to
discover that Alfred Knox Atherton and Jackson Frost were engaged in
this sort of game, but Professor Tufts and Kinsley--that’s enough to
take one’s breath away!”
Atherton stepped out of the car, and the others, except the chauffeur,
followed suit.
“Yes, this is the door,” said the former, producing a bunch of skeleton
keys. “Get out the things while I manipulate this lock.”
While Frost and Professor Tufts were lifting out an oblong case and a
leather bag from the back of the car, Atherton picked the lock and
opened the door.
“We’d better put on our masks now,” he said. “I don’t suppose we’ll meet
anybody, but it’s just as well to be on the safe side.”
Each of the four men produced a mask of black silk, and adjusted it over
the lower part of his face.
“Put out those lights now,” ordered their leader, turning to the driver.
“You know your orders. See that you obey them, and, above all, remember
to keep your engine running, and if you hear any disturbance, have
everything ready for flight the instant we return.”
The chauffeur switched off the electric lights, and a moment later
Atherton and his three companions were walking slowly in single file
along the footpath toward the house.
Atherton led the way with a small electric torch in his hand, which he
turned on for a moment now and then. Professor Tufts came next, carrying
the wooden case. Frost followed with the leather bag, and the lawyer
brought up the rear.
The waiter remained where he was until the sound of their footsteps had
died away, then, with no more noise than a cat would have made, he
slipped down the tree and glided after them.
By the time he came in sight of the house, Atherton had forced the catch
of the study window--a French window--and he and his three companions
were in the act of stealing into the room.
Kinsley was the last to enter, and as soon as he was inside, the
curtains were again drawn across the window, but it was left open.
For five or ten minutes Max Berne stood at the edge of the open space,
staring at the open window. Then his curiosity overmastered him, he
crept up on the terrace, fell on his hands and knees outside the window,
and cautiously raised the lower edge of the curtain.
What he saw caused him no surprise, for it was what he had expected to
see.
Out of the wooden case Professor Tufts had taken an ingenious little
apparatus, of which the essential feature was an oxyhydrogen blowpipe.
With the assistance of his companions he was directing the flame to that
part of the safe door which surrounded the lock.
So intense was the heat of the flame, that it melted the steel as easily
as a hot knife cuts through butter. In an incredibly short time a
circular hole had been cut through the door. A minute or two later the
safe was open, and Kinsley and Frost were about to pack the cases of
jewelry into the leather box.
Suddenly the waiter saw something which almost caused his heart to stop
beating.