"There's an iron inside; dress caught as they passed through, and as the
door was shut the edge cut that off like a pair of shears. There's a
way out here, my lads, and we've got hold of the clue."
It seemed easier to point out the clue than to follow it, for the door
was strong, and it was not until suitable implements had been fetched,
to further excite the crowd, and a sturdy attack made at the end of the
passage, that the outer door gave way, the bolts of the strongly-made
lock being broken right off.
"By George! you've got hold of a case this time, my lad," cried the
superintendent; "but it's an attempt at a big burglary. This isn't a
way out; it's the principal plate-closet, and they've been trying to get
it open, and failed. Hammer leather-covered, wedges, pistols, dark
lantern smashed, tin of powder, and marks on the front of the safe door
where the wedges have been. Powder smells quite strong here. They must
have tried to blast the door open. Out, all of you; they're hiding
somewhere. They can't have got away."
The men turned back, all but the one who had given the alarm, and he had
struck a fresh match, for the bulb in the ceiling gave forth no light,
and was stooping down to sweep away some of the sawdust on the floor.
"Come along, Dick," cried the superintendent. "What have you got
there?"
"Look, sir," said the man, holding out a handful of the sawdust he had
scraped up. "There's a bottle yonder that's had port wine in it, but
this looks to me like blood."