The safe was divided into several compartments, and on one side was a set of three metallic drawers.  The open side contained several account books and legal and patent papers.  The top drawer contained some old jewelry and a gold watch, the middle drawer some bank bills, not over a hundred dollars, all told.

The bottom drawer was locked, but the key for it lay in the middle drawer, so Adam Adams opened the receptacle with ease.  As he did so, a cry of astonishment came to his lips, and he repressed it with difficulty,

The drawer was packed with new and crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, all on the same bank, the Excelsior National, of New York City.  There were thirty of the bills, and evidently not one of them had been in circulation.  The detective started as he took them up, held them to the somewhat dim light, and started again.  He paused for a moment, as if deciding a weighty question.  Then he placed the package of bank bills in the inner pocket of his coat.

“These have no right to be here,” he muttered.  “The only place for them is in the hands of the federal authorities.”

Under the bills lay several legal documents.  One was labeled: 

“Mortgage of Matlock Styles to Barry S. Langmore, $8,000.”

There were likewise two other mortgages between the same parties, one for $3,000 and the other for $5,000.

“Whoever Matlock Styles is, he evidently owes the Langmore estate sixteen thousand dollars,” the detective told himself; “that is, if the obligations have not been cancelled.  I wonder what the mortgages were doing in with those bills?”

“Mr. Adams!”

A soft call from the window made the detective turn swiftly.  To his surprise, he saw Raymond Case peering at him through the blinds.  The young man’s face showed his perplexity.

“What brought you?” asked the detective.  He did not relish being caught off his guard.

“I couldn’t think of going to bed at the hotel, I was so upset.  I thought, if I came over here, I might discover something of value, or help you in some way.  I see you’ve managed to get that safe open.  It was certainly a clever piece of work.”

“As it happens opening the safe was not my work,” was the answer.  “Another man opened it and I took the liberty of looking inside.  But I can’t talk about that here.  Wait a minute and I’ll join you outside.”

Adam Adams swung the door of the safe open once more.  As he surmised, the combination could be set to a new series of numbers with ease.  He fixed it to correspond with the numbers of his own office safe, then closed the door, gave the knob a twirl, and hurried from the room by the same opening by which he had entered.

“When I first came up I thought somebody was robbing the safe,” said Raymond Case, when the pair were at a distance from the house.

“What did you see me do?”

“Take out a package of bankbills and put them into your pocket.  Oh, I know it must be all right, Mr. Adams.  But it looked queer.”