Not a sign of him did they see or hear, however, until they reached the level of the floor, where they could lean forward and look around the balustrade. First they heard a sound of heavy breathing, as from a sleeper. That was in the rear room, and Mark, peering in, saw the person clearly.
There was a faint light in the room, a light from a dimly-burning gas jet. The room was apparently deserted except for the sleeper. It was a woman, for Mark could see her hair upon the pillow. But where was the burglar?
The answer came with startling suddenness, suddenness that precipitated a calamity. The room next to the rear one was dark and silent until, without a moment’s warning, all at once a light flashed out. And there was the burglar. The reckless villain had lit the gas, so sure was he of his safety. And he was standing now in the middle of the floor, stealthily taking off his coat before starting to work.
Naturally that sudden flash of light startled the three; it startled them so much that Chauncey leaped back with a gasp of alarm; and a moment later, his heel catching in the end of his huge green overcoat, he tripped and staggered, clutched wildly at nothing, and with a shriek of alarm tumbled backward, rolling over and over with a series of crashes that made the building shake. And then there was fun.
In the first place, as to the burglar; he started back in horror, realizing his discovery; in the second place, as to the woman; she sat up in bed with the celerity of a jack-in-the-box, and an instant later gave vent to a series of screams that awoke the neighborhood.
“Help! Help! Burglars! Murder! Thieves! Fire! Help!”
In the third place, as to the cadets. Their first thought was of Chauncey, and they turned and bounded down the steps to the bottom. They found him “rattled” but unhurt, and they picked him up and set him on his feet. Their second thought was of the burglar, that ruthless villain who perhaps even now was making his escape by a window. The thought made them jump.
“Forward!” shouted Mark.
And to a man they sprang up the stairs, two or three steps at a time, shouting “Burglars!” as they went. They reached the top and bounded into the room, where they found the man in the very act of rushing out of the door. Mark sprang at him, seized him by the throat and bore him to the ground. And the two others plunged upon the pile.
“Hold him! Hold him! Help! Help!” was the cry.