thought.

He would have felt just the same, he reasoned, had the culprit been Bob
instead of Bob's sister. There was, thank Heaven, nothing soft about him!
He could see and hear and even enjoy a good-looking girl without making a
fool of himself. That was the beauty of being on the way to forty--one saw
things in their right light--and did not make a fool of one's self over
girls.

"Marc Scott, are we being raided again or what? Did I hear a shot and a
machine going by or was I dreaming?" demanded Mrs. Van, who, clad in a
blanket kimono, her feet thrust into moccasins, and a gay-looking pink
boudoir cap on her head, came to the door before Scott reached it. In her
rear could be dimly seen another figure, wrapped in a gray blanket.

"You ought to know," said Scott, rudely; focussing his attention on the
pink cap and ignoring the blanketed figure in the rear.

"What do you mean--I ought to know?" indignantly.

"Somebody has unlocked the office door and let that half-breed get away
and he's taken his car with him," said Scott. "The key's in your
house--that's all."

"Of course it's in this house. It's in the pocket of my sweater," answered
Polly, indignantly. "If you think I let him out----" She was too angry to
continue.

"Well, he didn't get out by the window because it's shut, and there's no
chimney for him to melt out of."

"Look here, Marc Scott, ain't you ashamed of yourself? Coming here and
talking to ladies like that--and in the middle of the night, too." Mrs.
Van Zandt was as angry as the other two. "That key couldn't get out of
this house to-night without my knowing it. He's brainy enough to get out
without help, that fellow."

"He may be brainy, but he's hardly brilliant enough to go through a locked
door," said Scott, obstinately. "Somebody let him out, that's all. If
you'll be kind enough to look for the key, Miss Street, and see if it's
been taken away----"

"How could it be? From my room?" demanded Polly, angrily.

"Are you going to hold an inquest over it?" asked Mrs. Van, cuttingly. "I
see the jury coming along."

Johnson, O'Grady and Hard were coming across the street. Polly drew her
blanket closely around her and tucked one bare foot behind the other. Her
reddish colored braids gave her a squaw-like appearance in the darkness.

"It's all right, Scotty, don't stir up the community," called Hard,
cheerfully. "I'm the guilty party."

"You!"

"It never dawned on me till I saw the unlocked