home; so must Barker."

The developments of the next ten minutes were highly interesting. Mr.
Dailey and Mr. Barker both hurried to their homes, with Tom and Harry,
and each found that burglars had been in his house while he was away. In
each place the work had been done in the same way, evidently by the same
men. Hats and coats were gone, and all the solid silver, and the cut
glass, and many other things.

But no burglars were to be found in either place. They had done their
work and escaped.

"This is the most mysterious thing I ever saw!" Tom said to his father,
after they had searched the house and taken account of their losses.
"You say Joe didn't send a call for help, but it certainly came over the
wire. And I don't see yet how you knew while we were over at Baileys'
that there were burglars in our house."

"Don't you?" There was a lot of sarcasm in Mr. Dailey's tone. "I should
think the inventor of a private burglar alarm might see through a little
thing like that. One of the burglars knew how to send a message; now do
you see?"

"I don't quite understand it even then, sir," Tom answered.

"Oh, it's plain enough," Mr. Dailey explained. "They knew all about your
wretched burglar alarm, and the paragraph in the paper told them your
signal calls. They robbed Bailey's house first, then disconnected Joe's
bell, and sent out the call for help. Of course they knew that we would
hurry over, leaving our own houses unprotected. As soon as the call was
sent they stepped out and came over and robbed our houses at their
leisure, knowing that we had gone to Baileys'. I suppose they're sitting
somewhere now laughing at us."

Mr. Dailey was quite right about that. The two burglars were at that
moment dividing their plunder in an empty barn, and laughing over their
work.

"Give me a private telegraph line when you want to do a job up slick,"
said the older man, handing out a cut-glass pitcher, "specially when
there's a newspaper to tell you the office calls. We don't have such
luck as that often."

The Westbridge boys have learned from experience that it is hardly safe
to ask Tom or Joe or Harry how he likes telegraphing; and the private
burglar alarm has gone out of business.

CORPORAL FRED.

A Story of the Riots.

BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U. S. A.

CHAPTER III.

The situation along the line of the Great Western at four o'clock this
sultry afternoon was indeed alarming. "No violence," said the leaders