Could this really be the mysterious Mr. X? No, Philip decided. Graybeard was nothing but a common ordinary burglar. And yet there was something familiar about him.
The man tucked the money into his pocket, then looked contemptuously at the bit of jewelry but put it into another pocket. Philip listened to hurrying footsteps overhead and could see that Graybeard was perturbed by them. But there was no catching this man off guard. He held the gun close to Philip every minute. He again ordered Philip to put his hands into the air, while he felt around the inside of the safe. Philip could not help but think what a curious picture this man with his long gray beard made, as he searched through the empty safe with one hand and kept his pistol pointed at Philip with the other. What on earth was he searching for?
Then Philip heard a little click, and suddenly a drawer on two little steel rods dropped down from inside the top of the safe.
“Missed that part of it, didn’t you?” Graybeard sneered. “Empty that drawer and hand me the stuff.”
Philip was so surprised he stood there with his mouth open for a full minute, then with great interest he looked at this drawer that he had never seen before. It was wide and shallow and full of papers. Evidently a little hidden spring had released the rods that held the drawer in place. Could this be the place where the rumored treasure was supposed to be hidden? Philip mentally kicked himself for not having thought of such a possibility before. Much good it would do them now. Idiot that he had been not to have taken ordinary precautions that night. What fools they had all been not to follow Peter’s advice!
No wonder Mr. X Graybeard had planted red herrings guaranteed to keep Jimmy and Marjorie searching everywhere for hidden treasure except in their own safe.
“Quit stalling,” Graybeard growled, poking Philip with his gun. “Come on, hand over that stuff and make it snappy. The boys upstairs must be about ready to go.”
Philip took from the drawer two packages of old papers that looked like receipted bills, and a large, bulging Manila envelope. This Graybeard snatched from Phil’s hand and pocketed it with a satisfied air. He glanced at the old papers and said, “You can throw those away. What I want is bound to be in this envelope.” He went on in a patronizing voice, “Thanks, sonny boy. If you hadn’t played right into my hands, I might have had to use some ‘soup’ to blow the lock off that safe. Messy stuff, ‘soup,’ and noisy. When I heard you were going to throw this ball and show your guests the secret room, I decided to let one of you dopey Allens open it for me.” He patted the pocket into which he had stuffed the old Manila envelope. “What I have here is much more valuable than all the money and jewels the men I hired have taken from your guests. They can keep whatever they collected as their pay.”