Jack grinned.
"I've been here once," he said. "That should answer that question. You know my memory is pretty good."
"Then you can show me which house I live in," said Frank.
Jack pointed to a house a block away where a dim light showed from beneath a drawn curtain.
"There's the house," he said, "and there appears to be some one home."
"That's father, of course," said Frank. "He seldom goes out in the evening."
The lads quickened their steps and soon were before the house. Quietly they mounted the steps and as quietly tip-toed across the porch. Frank tried the door. It was unlocked.
"Careless of father," he whispered. "I'll have to speak to him about that."
He opened the door gently and the two lads passed within. Frank closed the door noiselessly behind him. The lads dropped their grips silently in the hall and then tip-toed toward a room at the far end, where a light showed.
Keeping out of sight, Frank peered in the door. There, with his back to his son, sat Dr. Chadwick, reading. Frank stepped softly across the room leaving Jack standing, grinning, at the door.