They had not made their escape over the back fences. Such a number
of people would certainly have left some trail, and there was
none.
We looked at Garrick, perplexed, and he remarked, with sudden
energy, "Let's take a look at the cellar."
As we groped down the final stairway into the cellar, it was only
too evident that at last he had guessed right. Down in the
subterranean depths we quickly discovered, at the rear, a sheet-
iron door. Battering it down was the work of but a moment for the
little ram. Beyond it, where we expected to see a yawning tunnel,
we found nothing but a pile of bricks and earth and timbers that
had been used for shoring.
There had been a tunnel, but the last man who had gone through had
evidently exploded a small dynamite cartridge, and the walls had
been caved in. It was impossible to follow it until its course
could be carefully excavated with proper tools in the daylight.
We had captured the stronghold of gambling in New York, but the
gamblers had managed to slip out of our grasp, at least for the
present.
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