“A boy might,” remarked Jack.

“But this wasn’t a boy’s work,” objected Rand.

“Can’t always tell,” replied Jack, “almost anything is possible.”

Going back into the building, Jack led the way up to Judge Taylor’s office, where they found an officer in consultation with the judge.

“Good morning, judge,” said Jack as they entered.  “We came in to see if there was anything new about the robbery.”

“Good morning, boys,” replied the judge.  “Looking for news, as usual, eh, Jack?  Well, I am sorry to say there isn’t any.  We are just as much in the dark as ever.  It is beyond my comprehension how any one could get in and out of this place and not leave any signs to show how they did it.”

“It beats me,” chimed in the officer.  “It was a good job, too.  Looks as if there were two or three in it, the way they handled the safe,” pointing to the large, old-fashioned safe, good enough in its day, but not offering much resistance to modern tools, which was standing in the middle of the room.

“They certainly made junk of it,” remarked Rand; “how did they do it?”

“Steel wedges,” replied the officer.  “It wasn’t very much of a job for yeggmen, such as these must have been.  They drove the wedges in alongside of the door and burst it open,”

“But didn’t that make a good deal of noise?”

“Not if they used pieces of cloth to deaden the sound of the blows,” explained the officer.

“Did they get very much?” asked Rand.

“Not very much,” replied the judge, “some papers and a few coins.”

“Hello!” interjected Jack, who had picked up a sheet of paper from the floor.

“Found something?” asked the judge; “what is it?”

“What do you make of that?” asked Jack, handing him the paper.

“Not very much,” answered the judge, looking it over.  “There seems to be a smudge of dirt on it, that is all.”

“Nor I,” chimed in the officer.  “Nothing there.”

“Looks to me like finger marks,” said Rand.

“That’s it, exactly!” cried Jack excitedly.  “Look at it this way!”

“I see,” said the judge, “some one has left the impression of a dusty hand.”

“It was a small hand, too,” went on Jack, “not much bigger than mine.”

“That seems right, too,” assented the judge, “but what do you make of it?”

“It was a boy or a small man who made it,” continued Jack.

“That’s logical,” agreed the judge, “but—­”

“That may be,” criticized the officer, “but I don’t see that it leads anywhere.”

“One minute,” returned Jack, “his hand was dusty because he came in through a dusty way.”

“Plato, thou reasoneth well,” laughed the judge, “but we are still up against the original puzzle.  What was that way?”

“How long since these windows have been opened?” asked Jack, going to one of the windows that looked on the wall of the next building.