Joe Emerald grunted and pulled the sheets over his head. "Lemme sleep," he muttered.
"Wake up, Joe!" This time his wife's fingers dug into his shoulder. "I tell you, somebody's in the house! For heaven's sake, wake up!"
"Let him," mumbled Joe again. "What d'ya want me to do, get up and make him a cup of coffee? Go to sleep, Pearl, there's nobody...." He began to snore.
Out in the living room, a lamp fell to the floor with a crash, Joe sat erect, startled, awake. "Whassat!" he exclaimed.
"I told you there was a burglar in the house," said Pearl.
"In a private dick's house?" asked Joe. "And what could he find here—except bills?"
"He could be a kidnapper!" said his wife in a frantic whisper. "Joe, please get your gun and go out there, before I do it myself!"
A door opened somewhere in the house.
"He's going into the children's bedroom!" gasped Pearl. "Oh, Joe...." She leaped from bed, fumbled for her bathrobe.
"Stay right here!" said Joe, almost savagely. He was out of bed now, and his fingers closed around his gun in its shoulder holster hanging over the chair. He opened the bedroom door, stepped out into the darkness of the living room beyond. A few quick steps took him to the door of the children's room, which was closed. He laid a hand on the knob, then whirled swiftly as a door shut softly somewhere at the rear of the house.