“Yes,” said Thaddeus. “We rang four times at the basement, and I should say seven times at the front door, and then we took to the window. Bradley’s is one of those narrow English-basement houses with a small yard in front, so that the reception-room window is easy to reach by climbing over the vault leading to the basement door, which is more or less of a cellar entrance. Fortunately the window was unlocked. I say fortunately, because it enabled us to get into the house, though if I were sitting on a jury I think I should base an indictment—one of criminal negligence—of the Jewel on the fact that it was unlocked. It was just the hour, you know, when policemen yawn and sneak-thieves prowl.”
“How careless!” vouchsafed Bessie.
“Very,” said Thaddeus. “But this time it worked for the good of all concerned, although my personal appearance doesn’t give any indication that I gained anything by it. In fact, it would have been better for me if the house had been hermetically sealed.”
“Don’t dally so much, Thaddeus,” put in Bessie. “I’m anxious to hear what happened.”
“Well, of course Bradley was very much concerned,” continued Thaddeus. “It was bad enough not to be able to attract the maid’s attention by ringing, but when he noticed that the house was as dark as pitch, and that despite the clanging of the bell, which could be heard all over the neighborhood, even his wife didn’t come to the door, he was worried; and he was more worried than ever when he got inside. We lit the gas in the hall, and walked back into the dining-room, where we also lighted up, and such confusion as was there you never saw! The table-cloth was in a heap on the floor; Bradley’s candelabra, of which he was always so proud, were bent and twisted out of shape under the table; glasses broken beyond redemption were strewn round about; and a mixture of pepper, salt, and sugar was over everything.”
“‘I believe there have been thieves here,’ said Bradley, his face turning white. And then he went to the foot of the stairs and called up to his wife, but there no answer.
“Then he started on a dead run up the stair. Above all was in confusion, as in the dining-room. Vases were broken, pictures hung awry on the walls; but nowhere was Mrs. Bradley or one of the Bradley children to be seen.
“Then we began a systematic search of the house. Everywhere everything was upside-down, and finally we came to a door on the third story back, leading into the children’s play-room, and as we turned the knob and tried to open it we heard Mrs. Bradley’s voice from within.
“‘Who’s there?’ she said, her voice all of a tremble.
“‘It is I!’ returned Bradley. ‘Open the door. What is the meaning of all this?’