He pushed and shoved with all his might, while
Dollops aided with every ounce of strength in his young body.
The door responded not one whit. Black Whiskers had done his work well
and thoroughly, possibly as an object-lesson to the absent Jenkins. And
Jenkins, by the way, was the name of Cleek's new-found friend of the
factory. H'm. That was cause for thought. Then Jenkins was more "in the
know" than he had given him credit for. Possibly Black Whiskers knew
already of their conversation at dinner-time. He'd have to close down on
that source of information, at any rate--if they ever got out of this
business alive.
These thoughts passed through Cleek's brain even while his shoulders and
his strength were at work upon the unresponsive door. Only failure marked
their efforts. At last, breathless and exhausted from the strain, Cleek
descended the steps again. He listened, and, hearing nothing, signalled
Dollops to follow him.
"They must have got in somewhere, and here's hoping it wasn't through
this trap-door," he said evenly.
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