Then another horrible thought struck her. Chet was sleeping in the next room, and Chet's door was unlocked!
On feet that seemed too weak to hold her she crept into Chet's room—luckily there was a connecting door between—and softly turned the key in his door also.
Evidently she was just in time, for as she listened the stealthy noise began again and it was coming toward the very door she had just locked.
She uttered a little involuntary sound, and Chet sat up in bed with a start.
"Wh-what's up?" he demanded sleepily.
"Oh, hush," cried Billie. Scurrying to his bed and leaning over, she whispered the awful words: "There's a burglar in the house, Chet."
"A burglar?" repeated Chet, wide awake by this time. "Who says so?"
"Don't be foolish! Didn't I hear him myself?" cried Billie in a desperate whisper. "Oh, Chet, he's on the stairs outside."
"Well, why doesn't he come in? Is he bashful?" queried Chet, seeming not in the least alarmed. Billie shook him impatiently.
"He probably would have come in if I hadn't locked the doors," she told him impatiently. "For goodness' sake, Chet, wake up and tell me what to do. He may have stolen everything we own by this time."