house which, he felt certain, was untenanted save for himself.

As soon as he could steady himself well enough, Benson bent and snatched
up the burning candle from the tinder-like bed on which it stood propped.

"Instead of destroying me," he chuckled, "this candle will now light me
on my way out."

At the doorway at the end of the room Jack Benson, by some strange
chance, happened to remember that slight metallic sound of something
falling to the floor while Millard was speaking. Now, Jack bent over,
holding the candle to aid him in his hunt. Ah! There it was! Yet how
utterly insignificant--nothing but a hairpin!

"Trifles often lead to something big, though," muttered the submarine
boy, dropping the hairpin into his pocket. "I've been too much around
machinery to despise small things."

Candle in hand, Jack quickly ascended through the rest of the house,
after finding, in the lower hallway, a stout stick that he picked up.
With this club he felt he had a weapon to be depended upon at need.

But there was nothing in the rest of the little three-story house to
throw any light upon the habits of Millard, or the place for which
that worthy had departed.

In one upper room Benson found a small mirror hung from a nail in the
wall. In this same room was a small trunk, lid up and empty.

Back to the basement Jack returned. At the rear he found a small yard.