As the last one entered, he half turned to the taxicab driver,
hiding from passers-by the sign of the Clutching Hand which the
taxicab driver returned, in the same manner. Then the big car
whirled up the avenue.
All this we learned later from a street sweeper who was at work
nearby.
Down below, while the police and detectives were putting out the
fire, Kennedy was examining the wall of the cellar, looking for
the spot where the crooks had escaped.
"A secret door!" he exclaimed, as he paused after tapping along
the wall to determine its character. "You can see how the force of
the explosion has loosened it."
Sure enough, when he pointed it out to us, it was plainly visible.
One of the detectives picked up a crowbar and others, still with
the hastily selected implements they had seized to fight the fire,
started in to pry it open.
As it yielded, Kennedy pushed his way through. Elaine, always
utterly fearless, followed. Then the rest of us went through.
There seemed to be nothing, however, that would help us in the
cellar next door, and Kennedy mounted the steps of a stairway in
the rear.
The stairway led to a sort of storeroom, full of barrels and
boxes, but otherwise characterless. When I arrived Kennedy was
gingerly holding up the dusters which the crooks had worn.
"We're on the right trail," commented Elaine as he showed them to
her, "but where do you suppose the owners are?"
Craig shrugged his shoulders and gave a quick look about.
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