CHAPTER X
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE JEWELRY WORKS
"The jewelry works?" repeated Roger.
"Yes. What did it sound like to you?"
"Why, like a blast of some kind. Maybe it was at the railroad."
"They don't work on the railroad at night—especially in this cold weather, Roger. No, it was something else."
Both boys halted on the piazza and listened. But not another sound out of the ordinary reached their ears.
"Might as well go in—it's getting pretty cold," said the senator's son.
Dave unlocked the door and they entered the mansion. A dim light was burning in the hallway. While they were taking off their caps and coats Dave's father appeared at the head of the stairs.
"Got back safely, did you?" he questioned.
"Yes, dad; and everything in the city was all right," answered the son. "I'll bring the package up to you."
"Never mind—I'll come down and put it in the safe," answered Mr. Porter. "By the way," he went on, "what was that strange noise I just heard?"
"That Is what we were wondering," said Roger. "It sounded like a blast of dynamite to me."
"Maybe something blew up at the powder works at Fenwood," suggested Dave. The works in question were fifteen miles away.
"If it did, we'll hear about it in the morning," returned Mr. Porter, as he took the package Dave gave him and disappeared into the library, turning on the electric light as he did so.
The boys went upstairs and started to undress. Phil had been asleep, but roused up at their entrance. The boys occupied a large chamber, with two double beds in it, for they loved to be together, as at school.
"Listen to that!" cried Dave, as he was unlacing a shoe.
"It's the telephone downstairs!" cried Phil. "My, but it's ringing to beat the band!" he added, as the bell continued to sound its call.
The boys heard Mr. Porter leave the library and go to the telephone, which was on a table in an alcove. He took down the receiver.
"Yes! yes!" the boys heard him say. Then followed a pause. "You don't mean it! When, just now? Was that the noise we heard? Where did they go to? Wait, I'll call Mr. Wadsworth. What's that? Hurry!" Then followed another pause. "Cut off!" they heard Mr. Porter mutter.
"Something is wrong!" murmured Dave.
Mr. Porter came bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. Dave and the other boys met him in the hallway.
"What is it, Dad?" asked the son.
"Robbers—at the jewelry works!" panted David Porter. "I must notify Mr. Wadsworth!" And he ran to a near-by door and pounded on it.
"What is it?" came sleepily from the rich manufacturer. He had heard nothing of the telephone call, being down deep in the covers because of the cold.
"Mr. Wadsworth, get up, get up instantly!" cried Mr. Porter. "You are wanted at the jewelry works. I just got something of a message from your watchman. Some robbers have blown open your safes and they attacked the man, but he got away long enough to telephone. But then they attacked him again, while he was talking to me! We'll have to get down there at once!"
"Roger, did you hear that?" gasped Dave. "That's the noise we heard!"
"Yes, and they attacked the watchman," responded the senator's son.
"I'm going back there," went on Dave. "The others will have to stop and dress. Maybe we can catch those rascals."
"Yes, and save the watchman, Dave!"
By this time Mr. Wadsworth had appeared, in a bath-robe, and Dunston Porter also showed himself. Dave slipped on his shoe again and fairly threw himself into his coat, and Roger also rearranged his toilet.
"Wait—I'll go with you!" cried Phil.
"Can't wait, Phil—every second is precious!" answered our hero. "You can follow with the men."
"Take the gun, or a pistol—you may need it," urged the shipowner's son, as he started to dress.
In a corner stood Dave's double-barreled shotgun loaded. He took it up. Roger looked around the room, saw a baseball bat in another corner, and took that. Then the boys ran out into the hallway, where the electric lights were now turned on full. The whole house was in a hub-bub.
"We are dressed and we'll go right down to the works," said Dave. "I heard what father said, Mr. Wadsworth. We'll help Tony Wells, if we can." And before anybody could stop him, he was out of the house, with Roger at his heels.
"Be careful, Dave!" shouted his uncle after him. "Those robbers may be desperate characters."
"All right, Uncle Dunston, I'll watch out."
"If you chance to see a policeman, take him along. I'll come as soon as I can get some clothing on."
Tired though they were, the two boys ran all the distance to the jewelry works. When they got there they found everything as dark and as silent as before. They had met nobody.
"How are you going to get in?" asked Roger, as they came to a halt before the main door.
Dave tried the door, to find it locked. "Let us walk around. The thieves may be in hiding somewhere," he suggested.
They made the circuit of the works, once falling into a hole filled with snow. Nothing unusual met their eyes, and each gazed questioningly at the other.
"It can't be a joke, can it? " suggested Roger. "Nat Poole might"
"No, I'm sure it was no joke," broke in our hero. "Wait, I'll try that little side-door. I think that is the one the watchman generally uses."
He ran to the door in question and pushed upon it. It gave way, and with caution he entered the building. All was so dark he could see absolutely nothing.
"I guess we'll have to make a light," he said, as his chum followed him. "Wait till I see if I have some matches."
"Here are some," answered Roger. "Wait, I'll strike a light. You keep hold of that gun—and be ready to use it, if you have to!"
The senator's son struck one of the matches and held it aloft. By its faint rays the boys were able to see some distance into the workshop into which the doorway opened. Only machines and work-benches met their gaze. On a nail hung a lantern.
"We'll light this," said Dave, taking the lantern down. "You can carry it, and I'll keep the gun handy."
With lantern and gun held out before them, and with their hearts beating wildly, the two youths walked cautiously through the workshop. They had to pass through two rooms before they reached the entrance to the offices. The light cast curious shadows on the walls and the machinery, and more than once the lads fancied they saw something moving. But each alarm proved false.
"Why not call the watchman?" suggested Roger, just before entering the offices.
They raised their voices and then raised them again. But no answer came back.
"Would he telephone from the office?" asked the senator's son.
"I suppose so—although there is another 'phone in the shipping-room."
The boys had now entered one of the new offices. Just beyond was the old office, with the two old safes, standing side by side.
"Look!" cried Roger, in dismay.
There was no need to utter the cry, for Dave was himself staring at the scene before him. The old office was in dire confusion, chairs and desks being cast in various directions. All of the windows were broken out and through these the chill night air was entering.
But what interested the boys most of all was the appearance of the two old safes. The door to each had been blown asunder and lay in a twisted mass on the floor. On top of the doors lay a number of boxes and drawers that belonged in the safes. Mingling with the wreckage were pieces of gold and silver plate, and also gold and silver knives, forks, and spoons.
"Here is where that explosion came from," said Dave. "What a pity it didn't happen when we were in front of the works! We might have caught the rascals red-handed!"
"Listen! I hear somebody now!" exclaimed Roger. "Maybe they are coming back."
"No, that is my father who is calling!" replied our hero. "I'll let him in."
He ran to the office door, and finding a key in the lock, opened it. Roger swung the lantern, and soon Dave's father and his uncle came up, followed by Mr. Wadsworth, who, being somewhat portly, could not run so fast, and had to be assisted by Phil.
"What have they done?" gasped the manufacturer. "Tell me quickly! Did they blow open the safes?" He was so agitated that he could scarcely speak.
The boys did not reply, for there was no need. Mr. Wadsworth gave one look and then sank down on a desk, too overcome to make another move.
"Did you see anything of the robbers, Dave?" asked his father.
"Not a thing."
"And where is the watchman?"
"I don't know."
"Strange, he must be somewhere around. He told me of the robbery and then he said that they were coming after him. Then the message was suddenly cut off."
"It looks like foul play to me," said Dunston Porter, seriously. "We had better light up and investigate thoroughly."
He walked to a switchboard on the wall and began to experiment. Presently the electric lights in the offices flashed up and then some of those in the workshops were turned on.
By this time Oliver Wadsworth was in front of one of the shattered safes. An inner door, somewhat bent, was swung shut. With trembling fingers the manufacturer pulled the door open and felt into the compartment beyond.
"Gone! gone!" the others heard him mutter hoarsely. "Gone!"
"What is it?" asked Mr. Porter.
"The casket—the Carwith casket is gone!" And Mr. Wadsworth looked ready to faint as he spoke.
"Were the jewels in it?" questioned Mr. Porter.
"Yes! yes!"
"All of them?" queried Dave.
"Yes, every one. I placed them in the casket myself before we locked up for the day."
"Maybe the casket is on the floor, under the doors," suggested Dave; but he had little hope of such being the case.
All started a search, lasting for several minutes. But it was useless, the casket with its precious jewelry had disappeared. Oliver Wadsworth 
"The casket—the Carwith casket is gone!"—Page 96.
tottered to a chair that Phil placed for him and sank heavily upon it.
"Gone!" he muttered, in a strained voice. "Gone! And if I cannot recover it, I shall be ruined!"