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Page 20
"That fellow will bear watching, no matter who he claims to be," the
detective told himself. "But there is no use of following him now, for
he will be back sooner or later. He did not open this safe for
nothing."
With the policeman and the stranger gone, the lower portion of the
mansion appeared deserted. Adam Adams looked to make sure that he was
not observed, and then went to the safe. As he had anticipated, the
door now came open with ease.
The detective felt that he was in a ticklish position. Had he a right
to examine the contents of this strong box? If discovered by any one,
what would be the outcome? Even the fact that he was in a way
connected with the law might not clear him.
But he felt he must take some risks. He knew the sentiment against
Margaret Langmore, and knew that sentiment in a country place is almost
equal to a conviction. The coroner had convinced himself that the girl
was guilty, and would go to any extremity to prove the correctness of
his theory.
The safe was divided into several compartments, and on one side was a
set of three metallic drawers. The open side contained several account
books and legal and patent papers. The top drawer contained some old
jewelry and a gold watch, the middle drawer some bank bills, not over a
hundred dollars, all told.
The bottom drawer was locked, but the key for it lay in the middle
drawer, so Adam Adams opened the receptacle with ease. As he did so, a
cry of astonishment came to his lips, and he repressed it with
difficulty,
The drawer was packed with new and crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, all
on the same bank, the Excelsior National, of New York City. There were
thirty of the bills, and evidently not one of them had been in
circulation. The detective started as he took them up, held them to
the somewhat dim light, and started again. He paused for a moment, as
if deciding a weighty question. Then he placed the package of bank
bills in the inner pocket of his coat.
"These have no right to be here," he muttered. "The only place for
them is in the hands of the federal authorities."
Under the bills lay several legal documents. One was labeled:
"Mortgage of Matlock Styles to Barry S. Langmore, $8,000."
There were likewise two other mortgages between the same parties, one
for $3,000 and the other for $5,000.
"Whoever Matlock Styles is, he evidently owes the Langmore estate
sixteen thousand dollars," the detective told himself; "that is, if the
obligations have not been cancelled. I wonder what the mortgages were
doing in with those bills?"
"Mr. Adams!"
A soft call from the window made the detective turn swiftly. To his
surprise, he saw Raymond Case peering at him through the blinds. The
young man's face showed his perplexity.
"What brought you?" asked the detective. He did not relish being
caught off his guard.
"I couldn't think of going to bed at the hotel, I was so upset. I
thought, if I came over here, I might discover something of value, or
help you in some way. I see you've managed to get that safe open. It
was certainly a clever piece of work."
"As it happens opening the safe was not my work," was the answer.
"Another man opened it and I took the liberty of looking inside. But I
can't talk about that here. Wait a minute and I'll join you outside."
Adam Adams swung the door of the safe open once more. As he surmised,
the combination could be set to a new series of numbers with ease. He
fixed it to correspond with the numbers of his own office safe, then
closed the door, gave the knob a twirl, and hurried from the room by
the same opening by which he had entered.
"When I first came up I thought somebody was robbing the safe," said
Raymond Case, when the pair were at a distance from the house.
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