Do you mean to say you rigged
things up in this shape and got your deliveries out alone?"
"There was no one to help me," remarked Bart.
He felt pleased and encouraged, for the superintendent's cast-iron
visage had softened considerably, and he manifested unmistakable
interest as he reached out and took up and inspected the neatly
formulated memoranda on the packing-box desk.
"What's this?" he inquired, running over the pages Bart had last been
working on.
"That is a list of losers by the fire," explained Bart.
"This is from memory?"
"Yes, Mr. Leslie--but I have a good one, and I think the list is
tolerably correct."
"I am very much pleased," admitted the superintendent--"those claims are
our main anxiety in a case like this. I understand the contents of the
safe were destroyed."
"I fear so," assented Bart gravely. "The explosion was so sudden, and my
father was blinded, so there was no opportunity to close it. I tried to
reach it after rescuing him, but the flames drove me back."
Mr. Leslie was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be thinking. His
glance roamed speculatively about the place, taking in the layout
critically, then finally Bart was conscious that his shrewd, burrowing
eyes were scanning him closely.
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