And here’s a match.” He picked it up, examined it, and dropped it into his pocket. “They lighted a candle or something—”
“There’s a candle over there beside the barrel,” said Harry. Chub picked it up.
“If it was a new one when they lighted it,” he said, “they must have been in here a good long time. I don’t believe a candle burns down that much in less than twenty minutes or half an hour. I wonder—”
He broke off and walked to one of the shelves. A new box of tallow candles had been dragged from its place, and one candle was missing from the top layer. Between the counter and the door he picked up four more matches and added them to the one in his pocket.
“I don’t suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “that they’ve got any police around here who could catch these fellows in a hundred years. So I guess it doesn’t make much difference whether we report the robbery to-day or next week.”
“Oh, but we ought to tell some one right away, Chub,” exclaimed Harry.
“Well, I’m going to look around first, anyway. We ought to get some idea of what’s been taken.
