been busy right
here since before you went out.

"Seems to me I did hear someone moving about at one time, but I'm not
even sure of that."

"Well, whoever it was managed to move about enough to make work for me
to clear up," Mrs. Seaford said.

"There's only one door to this house so how could anyone get out
without passing me? You must surely be mistaken."

"The person, whoever it was, didn't care to pass you coming in, or
going out of the house, so climbed through the window. On his way out,
he knocked some plants from the window-sill. Nothing has been stolen,
so I can't see the object in ransacking the house."

"'Taint poss'ble you're nervous, and imagine someone's been in, is
it?" he asked, anxiously scanning her face.

"Imagine?" Mrs. Seaford said. "Well, come in, and see what you think.
I've cleared the worst of it, but here's enough left to convince you."

He dropped the net on the sand, and went in. One look was enough.

"What in the world----!" he said, and no more, but his face spoke
volumes.

It remained a mystery. Who would care to disturb the contents of the
odd dwelling of the Seafords? Not a thief, surely, for it was well
known that while the genial Captain had, at one time, been well to do,
he had, for the past few years, had a struggle for existence. The old
ship's hulk, inverted, and furnished for a home, held but one
treasure, love, and that, priceless as it was, could not be stolen.

Who was the intruder? How had he come, and how had he vanished?

Dwellers at Cliffmore talked of it, at their homes, at church, and on
the beach, but no one could give the slightest clue that might help in
detecting the intruder.

Excitement usually lasted regarding one matter until another subject
was suggested, when the villagers would turn with fresh interest to
the latest bit of news.

Generally, it was a happening of small importance, that gained its
prominence from having been frequently described, but one morning
something occurred that shook the little fishing village, as Captain
Seaford said, "from stem to stern."

When Mrs. Wilton, the housekeeper at Captain Atherton's Summer home,
"The Cliffs," arose early one morning, she noticed that the Captain
had forgotten the French window that opened on the porch. It evidently
had been open on the evening before, and, by an oversight, had
remained open all night. At a glance she saw that someone had been
through the lower part of the house.

Drawers