sort of fresh guy, anyway—thinks he owns the museum, I guess!"
Once more he pounded on the door and got no response. The police began to look serious.
"Aw, how could anything happen?" one of them asked. "Nobody could get into the museum, could they? And there was nobody in there when it was locked up except them that belonged. Ain't we been on watch?"
"Well, that scrap called all of us across the street for a time, remember."
"Yes, and we'd better forget that if there happens to be any trouble inside. I think we'd better go in and investigate. This doesn't look exactly good to me."
He took a key from his pocket—a key to the front door of the museum, that had been given him for just such an emergency. He unlocked the door and went in with two of the others, locking the door behind him.
They hurried through the entrance and started down the corridor toward the wide stairs that led to the floor above. The one in advance gave a cry of horror and started forward. Stretched on the marble floor were policemen and museum guards, unconscious, and plainly drugged in some manner.
"Call headquarters!" one of the policemen shrieked. "Get the chief!"
Another ran to the nearest telephone, which happened to be in the office of the custodian. Within a short time he had the chief on the wire.
"This is Officer Riley, at the museum," he said. "There's something wrong here. No guard showed up at the front door at the end of the hour, and
