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Next to the fire was a great toolbox; beyond that the little bookshelf with its well-worn books; beyond that, in the corner, a heap of filled and empty grain-bags. From the rafters hung down straps, riems, old boots, bits of harness, and a string of onions.
It heard the even breathing of the old man, and the steps of the hungry Kaffer dog going his last round in search of a bone or a skin that had been forgotten; and it heard the white hen call out as the wild cat ran away with one of her brood, and it heard the chicken cry. Then the grey mouse went back to its hole under the toolbox, and the room was quiet. And two o'clock came.
There was a toolbox in the closet. He brought it to the inspector. Ben handed the cat to him. "Saw away." Scotty held the cat firmly on a chair while Rick wielded the saw. Plastic sawdust flew from under the blade. Rick felt the blade hit metal and stopped. "Hit something!" he said excitedly. "Metal, but soft. Like lead." Scotty groaned. "Do you suppose Bartouki was telling the truth?"
Harry got some nails from his toolbox in the carriage house, and the boys went up to the house. There they found Freddie on the hard cement cellar floor, nailing boards together as fast as his little hammer could drive the nails in. "How's that?" asked the little fellow, standing up the raft. "I guess that will float," said Bert, "and when it stops raining we can try it."
Then he set down, got the toolbox and the long-handled contragravity lifter, and climbed to the ground where he opened the box, put on gloves and an eyescreen and got out a microray scanner and a vibrohammer. The first chunk he cracked off had nothing in it; the scanner gave the uninterrupted pattern of homogenous structure. Picking it up with the lifter, he swung it and threw it into the stream.
Under pretense of wanting the help of the eccentric man in completing the repairs he had started, Mr. Sharp took Mr. Damon back into the cabin. Tom, getting a big screwdriver from an outside toolbox, approached the scuttle on the roof. He could see it looming up in the semidarkness, a sort of box, covering a stairway that led down into the building.
Dale had been indiscreet, had probably blurted out his employer's title, and Mrs. Devar knew at last who the chauffeur was whose interference had baffled her plans. He laughed bitterly, but did not pursue the inquiry any further. "Can you clean coachwork and brass?" he asked, stooping to unlock the toolbox. The stableman shuffled uneasily from one foot to the other.
A moment later Ida looked over, and seeing Cora watching her, she quickly turned away and walked over to where Ed was locking up his toolbox. She placed her hand on the seat of his small auto and began talking to him. "I hear you are going into business," Cora heard Ida say. "Well, not exactly business," replied Ed. "I'm going to have some interest in the bank at New City." "Oh, yes.
There he knelt down in one corner and felt the floor with his hands. He found exactly what he had been hoping for. A large grate, and it was cool! He jumped up, grinning, grabbed the heavy toolbox and carried it back to the corner where he let it drop on the grate. It sagged slightly, near the corner. He picked up the box and dropped it again. The grate sagged a little more.
"Empty and deserted, looks like. We'll go back and take a look at it. The rest of you can finish packing and wait here till we come back. No use making extra travel for your horses. They'll get all they need, the chances are." The red automobile was empty of everything but the upholstering and a jack in the toolbox.