Kennedy's attention particularly, he asked about the basement or
cellar. Dr. Lith lighted the way, and we descended.

Down there were innumerable huge packing-cases which had just
arrived from abroad, full of the latest consignment of art
treasures which Spencer had purchased. Apparently Dr. Lith and
Miss White had been so engrossed in discovering what damage had
been done to the art treasures above that they had not had time to
examine the new ones in the basement.

Kennedy's first move was to make a thorough search of all the
little grated windows and a door which led out into a sort of
little areaway for the removal of ashes and refuse. The door
showed no evidence of having been tampered with, nor did any of
the windows at first sight. A low exclamation from Kennedy brought
us to his side. He had opened one of the windows and thrust his
hand out against the grating, which had fallen on the outside
pavement with a clang. The bars had been completely and
laboriously sawed through, and the whole thing had been wedged
back into place so that nothing would be detected at a cursory
glance. He was regarding the lock on the window. Apparently it was
all right; actually it had been sprung so that it was useless.

"Most persons," he remarked, "don't know enough about jimmies.
Against them an ordinary door-lock or window-catch is no
protection. With a jimmy eighteen inches long even an anaemic
burglar can exert a pressure sufficient to lift two tons. Not one
window in a thousand can stand that strain. The only use of locks
is to keep out sneak-thieves and compel the modern scientific
educated burglar to make a noise. But making a noise isn't enough