"Yes, and I suppose I scared myself half to death on purpose too," said
Billie sarcastically, as she patted the dog's great head. "Where are you
going?" she asked, as Chet started back into his room.

"To put this thing where I got it," he explained, holding up the pistol
from which Billie shrank back. "Don't imagine we'll have any further need
of it to-night."

"Wait a minute," ordered Billie, and Chet turned back surprised. "We
haven't found out yet how Bruce got in," she explained, looking fearfully
over her shoulder, for the effects of her fright had not quite left her
yet. "Don't you think we'd better take that along while we look through
the house? We must have left a door or a window open somewhere. Bruce
couldn't have come through the wall, you know."

"Something--I don't know what it can be--makes me agree with you,"
returned Chet sarcastically, but he turned to the stairs nevertheless,
"Come on," he said. "If we have left a window open it is high time that
that window was shut. Go ahead, Bruce, and show us where you got
in--that's a good old boy."

At the best it was rather an eerie business--searching through the empty
house at that time of night--and it was especially nerve-trying for
Billie after the fright she had had.

And then they found it. The French window that opened from the
dining-room upon the porch was swinging wide open--a wonderful invitation
to enter for any sneak thief who might happen to pass that way.

Billie shivered again as Chet, with a final pat, put Bruce outside and