"But I'm bothered about the intruders you say were here when you came. They must have locked both doors on the inside."
"A rum go," said Ferral, "if strangers can come in and make free with a person's property like that."
"Tell me about it. This country is a good deal of a wilderness, you know, and strangers are likely to do anything."
Ferral said nothing concerning the phantom auto, nor about the man who had so mysteriously vanished on the cliff road; he confined himself strictly to what had happened in the house, and tipped Matt and Carl a wink to apprise them that they were to let it go at that.
Sercomb seemed greatly wrought up, and insisted on taking a lamp and making an investigation of the upper floor.
"They were thieves," Sercomb finally concluded. "They thought I had gone away for the night, and so they came in here and tore up Uncle Jack's bedroom like we see it. It was known that Uncle Jack had money, and it was just as well known that he had disappeared."
"If you knew all that yourself," said Ferral, "why didn't you lock up before you went visiting?"
"I was careless," admitted Sercomb, with apparent frankness. "The one thing that bothers me is the fact that you were shot at, Dick! A nice way for you to be treated in Uncle Jack's own house!"
"Don't let that fret you, Sercomb. I've had belaying-pins and bullets heaved at me so many times that I don't mind so long as they go wide. We'll have a round with our jaw-tackle to-morrow. Just now, though, I and my mates are ready for a little shut-eye. Where do we berth?"