It was
this lock, evidently, to which the key fitted, opening the way
into the subterranean vault of brick and stone.
Kennedy opened it and pushed back the door. There was a little
square compartment, dark as pitch and delightfully cool and damp.
He lighted a match, then hastily blew it out and switched on an
electric bulb which it disclosed.
"Can't afford risks like that here," he exclaimed, carefully
disposing of the match, as our eyes became accustomed to the
light.
On every side were pieces of gas-pipe, boxes, and paper, and on
shelves were jars of various materials. There was a work-table
littered with tools, pieces of wire, boxes, and scraps of metal.
"My word!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he surveyed the curious scene
before us, "this is a regular bomb factory--one of the most
amazing exhibits that the history of crime has ever produced."
XVIII
THE "COKE" FIEND
I followed him in awe as he made a hasty inventory of what we had
discovered. There were as many as a dozen finished and partly
finished infernal machines of various sizes and kinds, some of
tremendous destructive capacity.
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