Then the intruder had not taken the watch, which was valuable.
Frank glanced toward his clothes. He had carefully placed them in a certain position when he undressed, and there they lay, as if they had not been touched or disturbed in the least.
“Queer burglar,” meditated Merry. “Should have thought he’d gone through my clothes first thing.”
But where was the fellow? There seemed but one place for him, and Frank stopped to look beneath the bed.
There was no one under the bed. The wardrobe door stood slightly ajar.
“Ah!” thought Frank. “At last! He must be in there, for there is no other place in this room where he could hide.”
Without hesitation, Frank flung open the door of the wardrobe, saying:
“Come out, sir!”
But the wardrobe was empty, save of such clothing and things as Frank had placed there with his own hands.
Merriwell fell back, beginning to feel very queer. He looked all around the room, walking over to a sofa across a corner and looking behind that. In the middle of the floor he stopped.