volver again and went forth.

First he sought out the man in the spruce tree. It was Andy. He had seen
no one but the people on the porch and in the windows. It was very dark
but he took an oath that no one had approached the house from his side.

"You saw no one talking with Mrs. Bergen by the kitchen door?"

"No. I can't see th' kitchen door from here."

Peter verified. A syringa bush was just in line.

"Then you haven't moved?" asked Peter.

"No. I was afraid they'd see me."

"They've seen something----"

"You mean----?"

"I don't know. But look sharp. If anything comes out this way, take a
shot at it."

"You think there's something----"

"Yes--but don't move. And keep your eyes open!"

Peter went off to the man in the hedge behind the kitchen--Jesse Brown.

"See anything?" asked Peter.

"Nope. Nobody but the chauffeur."

"The chauffeur?"

"He went up to th' house a while back."

"Oh--how long ago?"

"Twenty minutes."

"I see." And then, "You didn't see any one come away from the kitchen
door?"

"No. He's thar yet, I reckon."

Peter ran out to the garage to verify this statement. By the light of a
lantern the chauffeur in his rubber boots was washing the two cars.

"Have you been up to the house lately?"

"Why, no," said the man, in surprise.

"You're sure?" asked Peter excitedly.

"Sure----"

"Then come with me. There's something on."

The man dropped his sponge and followed Peter, who had run back quickly
to the house.

It was now after eleven. From the drawing-room came the distracting
sounds from the tortured piano, but there was no one on the portico. So
Peter, with Jesse, Andy and the chauffeur made a careful round of the
house, examining every bush, every tree, within a circle of a hundred
yards, exhausting every possibility for concealment. When they reached
the kitchen door again, Peter rubbed his head and gave it up. A screech
owl somewhere off in the woods jeered at him. All the men, except Jesse,
were plainly skeptical. But he sent them back to their posts and, still
pondering the situation, went into the house.

It was extraordinary how the visitor, whoever he was, could have gotten
away without having been observed, for though the night was black the
eyes of the men outside were accustomed to it and the lights from the
windows sent a glimmer into the obscurity. Of one thing Peter was now
certain, that the prowler was no ghost or banshee, but a man, and that
he had