"Packages of that value have to be handled with caution," muttered
Dave. "When a fellow puts on a valuation like that, it means
that he intends to make claim for any damage whatever."
"Hold on," muttered Dick, eyeing the counter. "There's something
leaking from the box now."
Dave took his hands away, then bent over to have a look with Dick.
A very tiny puddle of some very thick, syrupy stuff was slowly
forming on the counter.
"I wonder if the contents _have_ been damaged?" muttered Dave,
uneasily. Then added, in a whisper:
"The night manager will blame us, and hold me responsible, if
there _is_ any damage."
Both boys carefully inspected the tiny puddle for a few moments.
"Say, don't touch the box again," counseled Prescott, uneasily.
"Do you know what that stuff looks to me like, Dave?"
"What?"
"Do you remember the thick stuff that Dr. Thornton showed us in
IV. Chemistry the other day?"
"Great Scott!" breathed Dave Darrin, anxiously. "You don't mean
nitroglycerine?"
"But I _do_!" Dick nodded, energetically.
"Wow! Don't stir from here. I'll call the night manager."
Night Manager Drowan came over at once, eyeing the box and the
tiny pool of thick stuff.
"I never saw nitroglycerine but once," remarked Mr. Drowan,
nervously. "I should say this stuff looks just like it. We
won't take any chances, anyway. Dave, you go to the telephone,
and notify the police. Your friends can stand guard over the
box so that no one gets a chance to go near it.
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