There was no answer, but a second later came the whirring again, and then a big bat flew into the light, just grazing Tom's face.
"A bat!"
"Let it go!" said Songbird, and then the bat flew out of a window and disappeared.
"Oh!" murmured Sam, and breathed a sigh of relief. "I—I thought somebody struck at me!"
"I've got one of those electric pocket lights along," said Tom. "Let me use that."
He turned on the little electric lamp, and by its rays they inspected the apartment. It was a bedroom, and in one corner was an old bedstead and on it a musty straw mattress. In another corner was a closet containing several shelves.
"Here is an old inkwell," said Dick, and brought it forth. "And here are the remains of a box of writing paper and envelopes."
"Any letters?" asked Fred.
They looked around, but at first could find no writings of any kind. But behind one of the shelves, in a crack, they discovered several sheets of paper and took these to the light to read.
"They are parts of letters from Mr. Sobber to his wife," said Dick. "They must have been written by Tad's father."
"He speaks here of Merrick," added Tom, who was scanning a blurred page. "Merrick is Mrs. Sobber's brother beyond a doubt."
