Chance of a Lifetime by Grace Livingston Hill Read Free Book Online Page B

angle.
    How did the man get into the store, if man it was?
    Softly, he slid his hand down to the door latch and tried it, taking great care, but the creaking old latch suddenly gave out a grating sound, and simultaneously the light inside the store went out. There followed a dull thud, as of heavy metal books falling. And then a crash of metal, a lot of heavy metal articles falling against one another, a sort of scuffling sound, and then silence. Ominous silence.
    Frantically Keith put his shoulder to the door and tried to push it open, but the old door was held by heavy bolts at the top and bottom, and was made of strong oak planks. Keith could not do anything but rattle it.
    “We’d better call Mac and break this door open,” said Keith. “This looks odd!” But Bob had already disappeared down the alley, and Keith tiptoed to the corner of the store, with a sharp eye out, however, toward the front that there should be no possibility of anyone escaping in that direction.
    Meanwhile, Alan, as he ran down the alley, had been still trying to solve the problem about those papers. Had he taken them home or left them in the safe? And what were they worth anyway? Deeds and securities! Insurance papers! If they were lost or stolen, did it spell calamity, or was everything recorded that they would lose nothing? And why would anybody want to get any of these papers? It must have something to do with the people who were trying to foreclose the mortgage—unless, perhaps, this was just a common thief looking for money in the safe. What was that paper his father had spoken about? The “agreement” he had called it, something about not foreclosing under certain conditions. It was strange how his father’s words came back now in the stress of panic. Oh, how careless he had been not to attend to this matter right away!
    But there was no more time to think about it now. He had arrived at the end of the alley, just under the window at the back of the safe, and he saw to his horror that the window was wide open, and the light dancing about, just inside.
    Cautiously, he approached. If he only had an old box or something to stand on, so that he could see the situation and know just what to do. There might be more than one person inside, in which case, he would need help. He ought to have brought his little revolver along, perhaps, but he had not taken time to think when he left home, and besides, he hadn’t considered any serious danger.
    While he paused, watching the window, he heard the thud of the ledger falling, knew just what it was, saw the light go out, distinctly heard a hurried step and then the crash of the metal. That would be that stack of children’s hoes and shovels and rakes clattering together. He could almost visualize the intruder now, and knew just which way he was moving.
    Almost instantly, there appeared a dark form at the window. He could see the gleam of a white hand laid on the windowsill, as the light from the next street showed it up. The man was coming out!
    He crouched close to the wall. There was no time to signal his friends. It did not even occur to him; he was no coward. He crouched and held his breath as the intruder climbed out on the windowsill, hung an instant, and then dropped.
    But he dropped into Alan MacFarland’s arms, and they grappled together and fell, rolling over in the alley.
    Not for an instant did Alan let go his hold, though his prisoner kicked and struggled and applied even his teeth to the attack.
    Silently they rolled about the alley, Alan finally getting the upper hand and administering the good thrashing he well knew how to give, but not yet having been able to get a good glimpse of the man’s features. Suddenly the victim, in desperation, wrenched his right arm loose and, swift as lightning, gave him a smashing blow on the nose that made all the stars in the firmament flash out in bright splinters before his stunned gaze and sent him crashing down into the awful darkness in the