“Careful, boys!” shouted Mr. Racer, as he stepped out into the hall from his room, nearest to which the electric switch was, and flashed on the incandescents. “Don’t run into danger.”
Andy was now following his brother, having caught up a heavy fishing rod, bound together, as a substitute for a club.
“Paul, are you hurt?” cried Frank again, and by this time he was at the room door of the lad who had been so alarmed by the midnight visitor.
“No, I—I’m all right,” was the panting answer, and Paul met Frank at the portal, throwing the gleam of the hand electric all about. Frank turned on the regular light in Paul’s room, and looked around. The wire mosquito screen was raised, showing how the intruder had gained entrance. By this time Andy and Mr. Racer had joined Frank and Paul, and Mrs. Racer had been assured that whoever had entered was now outside the house.
“But what was it? Who was it?” demanded Mr. Racer.
“I—I—” began Paul, who was trembling from fright.
“I know who it was, I saw him!” interrupted Frank. “It was the same man we met on the beach—the mysterious man who knows something about Paul but who won’t tell! What did he do to you, Paul?”
“Nothing. That is, as far as I know. I was sleeping soundly when I heard a noise in my room, and I could just see someone moving about around the bureau, opening drawers. At first I thought it was one of you boys, or Mr. Racer, and then I knew you wouldn’t come in without making a light.
“I reached under my pillow where I kept the electric lamp, and flashed it. As I did so the man came toward my bed. Then I saw who he was and I yelled. I thought he was going to take me away.”
“Take you away?” questioned Frank. “Do you know him—have you seen him before?”