“No—­shall I?”

“Then don’t unseal them,” cautioned the voice.  “Put them back exactly as you found them and I’ll tell Mr. Kennedy the moment I can get hold of him.”

“All right,” nodded Elaine.  “I’ll do that.  And please get him—­as soon as you possibly can.”

“I will.”

“I’m going out shopping now,” she returned, suddenly.  “But, tell him I’ll be back—­right away.”

“Very well.”

Hanging up the receiver, Elaine dutifully replaced the papers in the box and returned the box to its secret hiding place, pressing the spring and sliding the panel shut.

A few minutes later she left the house in the Dodge car.

. . . . . . . .

Outside our laboratory, leaning up against a railing, Dan the Dude, an emissary of the Clutching Hand, whose dress now greatly belied his underworld “monniker,” had been shadowing us, watching to see when we left.

The moment we disappeared, he raised his hand carefully above his head and made the sign of the Clutching Hand.  Far down the street, in a closed car, the Clutching Hand himself, his face masked, gave an answering sign.

A moment later he left the car, gazing about stealthily.  Not a soul was in sight and he managed to make his way to the door of our laboratory without being observed.  Then he opened it with a pass key which he must have obtained in some way by working the janitor or the university officials.

Probably he thought that the papers might be at the laboratory, for he had repeatedly failed to locate them at the Dodge house.  At any rate he was busily engaged in ransacking drawers and cabinets in the laboratory, when the telephone suddenly rang.  He did not want to answer it, but if it kept on ringing someone outside might come in.

An instant he hesitated.  Then, disguising his voice as much as he could to imitate mine, he took off the receiver.

“Hello!” he answered.

His face was a study in all that was dark as he realized that it was Elaine calling.  He clenched his crooked hand even more viciously.

“Have you read them?” he asked, curbing his impatience as she unsuspectingly poured forth her story, supposedly to me.

“Then don’t unseal them,” he hastened to reply.  “Put them back.  Then there can be no question about them.  You can open them before witnesses.”

For a moment he paused, then added, “Put them back and tell no one of their discovery.  I will tell Mr. Kennedy the moment I can get him.”

A smile spread over his sinister face as Elaine confided in him her intention to go shopping.

“A rather expensive expedition for you, young lady,” he muttered to himself as he returned the receiver to the hook.

Clutching Hand lost no further time at the laboratory.  He had thus, luckily for him, found out what he wanted.  The papers were not there after all, but at the Dodge house.