"that there is something of value in the
shed."

Returning, Locke led the way to a door upon the other side of the
house. Showing them into a small room furnished with books and
scientific apparatus and evidently a study, he set down the lantern
and with a sign bade them be seated. Upon their doing so he produced a
small pad of paper and a pencil; handing these to Ashton-Kirk he
stood peering at them expectantly. With the swift, accurate touch of
an expert, the investigator wrote in the Pitman shorthand:

"We ask pardon if we have startled you."

Then he tore off the sheet and handed it to Professor Locke. The man
seemed surprised at the medium selected by his visitor; nevertheless
he quickly traced the following in the same characters.

"Who are you? What is your errand?"

"We were sent to you by Dr. Mercer," replied Ashton-Kirk with flying
pencil. "Our business is to secure the admission of a new pupil."

Locke read this and regarded them for a moment, doubtfully.

"Why did you not press the button at the door?" he demanded in
writing.

"I hardly expected you to have such a thing as a bell," answered
Ashton-Kirk, on the pad. "And so, seeing you, I attracted your
attention as best I could."

Professor Locke read this and stood with his pencil poised, when the
buzzer sounded harshly; he went at once into the hall; they heard him
open the door; and in a few moments he returned, followed by Haines.

The fingers of the two flashed their signals back and forth; then a
look of relief came into Locke's face; he even smiled, and nodded
understandingly at the two young men.

"I beg pardon, gentlemen," said Haines. "But when I got back to the
hall, Dr. Mercer made me return and make sure that you had got to see
the Professor."

"Thanks," replied the investigator. "We had not the slightest
difficulty."

"I'm glad to hear it, sir," said the man. "Good-night to you."

He flashed the same wish to the mute, who answered readily; then he
went out and through the window they saw his light again go bobbing
away in the darkness. Then the professor began to write once more.

"I beg your pardon," was his message in long-hand. "The man tells me
that it was quite as you say. But I must confess I was a trifle
startled."

"The lady," wrote Ashton-Kirk, "seemed startled, too."

For the fraction of a moment the mute halted in his reply. Then the
pencil with much assurance formed the following:

"It was my niece. She was a