Then they went in, a bit gingerly at first, for there is a queer, uncanny sort of feeling in coming back to find the furniture upset in a strange fashion. They all felt it, even joking Jack.
But, aside from the misplaced tables, chairs and couch, nothing wrong was found. Nothing was missing, as far as could be ascertained, and no food had been taken from the pantry, though more than once, Mrs. Floyd said, on former occasions when the “surprise” had been manifested, the larder showed signs of an unknown visitor.
“Now before we set things to rights,” suggested Jack, “suppose we see if there are any clews. Let’s go at this thing right. Look at each piece of furniture and see if it has——”
“Any finger marks on? Is that what you mean, Jack?” asked Paul.
“No, I’m not drawing it quite as fine as that. I mean look around on the floor for bits of mud, for any signs of foot prints—anything, in fact, that would give us a line on who did this.”
“It seems to have been done deliberately, anyhow,” observed Walter. “The chairs and other things weren’t misplaced in a hurry. They took their time. Why any one but a child would want to pile that chair on the table is remarkable.”
“That very thing may indicate that it was just some skylarking boys,” commented Jack.
Mr. Floyd shook his head.
“There aren’t any boys around here,” he said. “Of course lads might come out from the village, and break in to do this mischief, but it isn’t likely. This is private land, and on several previous occasions trespassers have been arrested, so the boys don’t generally come here. Besides, they wouldn’t have had a key to come in with.”
“Did they use a key to enter?” asked Paul.