“No, thank you. I’ll do without it. I dare say I shan’t need it.”
“Let’s burn a light all night,” proposed Belle.
And no one called her silly. So the lamp was left aglow, turned down a little.
Contrary, at least to some expectations, the night passed peacefully. There was no disturbance, and the girls awoke refreshed and with only a little feeling of uneasiness as to what might happen in the future.
But when Cora went downstairs, and began looking among the things on the table in the living room, another manifestation of the queer happenings was in evidence.
“Where’s my light?” she demanded. “I left my flashlight here last night, and now it’s gone. Did any one take it?”
No one had, the boys and girls denying all knowledge. Nor had Mr. or Mrs. Floyd removed it, and Cora was positive she had left it on the table. She recalled her remarks about it the night previous.
“Well, it’s gone,” she said. “Another one of the mysteries.”
“You seem to be singled out,” observed Walter. “First it’s your auto, and now your light.”
“Do you think the two cases have any connection?” asked Cora.