A roomy place,
with pictures on the walls, and even an alarm clock--now run down--chairs
with cushions, a table, and an upholstered settee covered with red plush.
The blinds were down.
I set a couple of pieces in the roof first, where I'd smashed it with my
empty bottle; then I took off the lock to see what was wrong there. While
I was busy with this the Captain came up. He had evidently been drinking
already that day, or was suffering from a heavy bout the night before.
"That's no burglary," he said. "Either the door must have been left open,
and slammed itself to bits, or some one must have stumbled up against it
in the dark. One of the visitors, perhaps, that left the other day."
But the door had been roughly handled, one could see: the lock was burst
open, and the woodwork on the inside of the frame torn away.
"Let me see! Put a new bolt in here, and force the spring back in place,"
said the Captain, examining the lock. He sat down in a chair.
Fru Falkenberg came down the stone steps to the shrubbery, and called:
"Is the Captain there?"
"Yes," said I.
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