hiding-place for valuables?"

"Well, not exactly, miss. But havin' a tip helps, an' ef there ain't no
soup to pour--"

"Soup?" inquired Muriel, wrinkling her pretty brows.

"That's the juice we pour into the cracks of a safe to blow out the lid
with," The Hopper elucidated. "Ut's a lot handier ef you've got the
combination. Ut usually ain't jes' layin' around."

"I should hope not!" exclaimed Muriel.

She took a sheet of paper from the leathern stationery rack and fell to
scribbling, while he furtively eyed the window and again put from him the
thought of flight.

"There! That's the combination of papa's safe." She turned her wrist and
glanced at her watch. "It's half-past eleven and you can catch a trolley
in ten minutes that will take you right past papa's house. The butler's an
old man who forgets to lock the windows half the time, and there's one in
the conservatory with a broken catch. I noticed it to-day when I was
thinking about stealing the jar myself!"

They were established on so firm a basis of mutual confidence that when he
rose and walked to the table she didn't lift her eyes from the paper on
which she was drawing a diagram of her father's house. He stood watching
her nimble fingers, fascinated by the boldness of her plan for restoring
amity between Shaver's grandfathers, and filled with admiration for her
resourcefulness.