The passageway made several turns, and in the darkness he had to feel his way along.  Then he reached a flight of stone steps, leading downward.

“I don’t want to go down—­I want to go up,” he reasoned.  But there seemed no help for it, and down he went, sixteen steps, to land in a small room at the bottom.

Here all was pitch-dark, and for the moment he stood still, not knowing in what direction to move next.  All around him were stone walls.

Presently he felt a small iron door.  He took bold of the handle and found the door locked.

Curious to learn his whereabouts, he felt for a match, struck it, and lit the lantern once more.  A brief glance at the door caused a look of wonder to overspread his face.  The door was locked with a combination lock similar in make-up to the lock on a safe.

He gazed around, and soon learned that there was no exit from where he was, save by the flight of stone steps.  To get out, he would have to go back.

He gazed again at the small iron door, set in an iron frame, embedded in the stone wall.  What could be behind that barrier?  Most likely something of great value.

On the floor at his feet was a bit of dirty white paper.  Mechanically, he picked it up and looked it over.  On it was the following: 

    O—­4
    L 2—­12
    R 3 53
    L 2 44

“The combination!” he murmured.  “Somebody had it on that paper and dropped it.  Shall I try to work it, or try to get out?”

His better judgment told him he should try to make his escape.  But he was curious to know what was behind that iron door; and, setting the lantern down, he commenced to work the combination knob.  He twirled the knob around four times and stopped at O. Then he began on the combination proper—­twice to the left, stopping at 12; three times to the right, stopping at 53; and then twice to the left again, stopping at 44.  Then he came around slowly to O again.  There followed a click.  The combination was off.

He twisted the handle of the iron door and pulled upon it.  It came open noiselessly, revealing a stone chamber beyond, eight feet square, and equally high.

Lantern in hand, Adam Adams stepped into the vault and gazed around eagerly.  On two sides were wooden shelves, six in number.  On the shelves rested several boxes, of wood and of metal.

He opened one of the boxes, and gazed at the contents with interest.  It contained a quantity of haired paper, almost an exact duplicate of the haired paper used in the making of banknotes.

He looked at another box.  This also contained paper.  The third box held a quantity of counterfeits, the amount of which made even the matter-of-fact detective gasp.

“If they ever floated these, they would be the richest gang of counterfeiters in the world!” was his mental comment.  He had no idea of the exact amount, but saw that it would total up to a tremendous sum.