"There," admitted Kenny, "he was often alone."
"Kenny, shall we look to-night?"
Kenny had his moment of doubt.
"We'll ask Hughie," he said.
And so with Hannah scoffing but noticeably on ahead with the lamp, they climbed the stairs and tore the room to pieces—to no avail. In a final burst of inspiration Hughie dragged the faded carpet from its tacks and filled the room with dust. Sneezing and coughing, they faced each other in the melee with looks of blank discouragement. Even Kenny's inexhaustible energy and excitement seemed on the point of waning. He stared drearily at the fireplace.
"It's cold in here," he said, shivering.
"Yes," said Joan, "we should have built a fire."
"The fireplace!" cried Hughie hoarsely.
"It's too late now," said Kenny irritably. "I'm chilled through."
"No, no, Mr. O'Neill, I'm not meaning the fire. It's the one place we haven't looked."