“Listen, then. We were both asleep, and we each heard the noise and woke up. Some one came through the window, crossed the room, opened the door, looked out to see that the coast was clear, went out, and closed the door after him.”
“But I heard you get into bed!”
“No, you didn’t. You heard me sit up and punch my pillow. I wanted you to know that you weren’t getting away with it. For that matter I heard your bed creak and thought you were getting into it.”
“I sat up, too,” said Laurie. “Gee, that’s a queer one! All this time I thought it was you and could have kicked myself around the block for yelling ‘No!’ when Johnny asked me that question! Then—then who the dickens was it, Ned?”
“That,” answered Ned grimly, “is what we’ve got to find out. Just now it’s up to us to get out of here before we miss our breakfasts!”
“Hang breakfast!” shouted Laurie. “This is better than a hundred breakfasts! Why—why, it means that you—that you aren’t suspended! It means—”
“Put your collar on, and make it snappy,” laughed Ned. “We’ve got some work ahead of us this morning!”
After breakfast they hurried back to No. 16, barred the door against intruders, especially Kewpie, sat down at opposite sides of the study table, and faced the problem. They continued to face it until nearly eleven. They examined the window-sill for clues, and found none. They leaned out and studied the ivy by means of which the mysterious visitor had reached the second story, and it told them nothing, or so it seemed at the moment. As they turned back to the room Ned said idly: “It’s lucky the fellow didn’t have to get to the third floor, for I don’t believe he could have made it. That ivy sort of peters out above our window.”
Laurie nodded uninterestedly and silence ensued, just as silence had ensued so frequently before in the course of morning. Then, several minutes later, Ned said suddenly, questioningly: