“They are not likely to be found in the halls,” said Nick. “But I should judge they are to be found in the parlor above.” The young man without a word led the way up the stairs to a furnished hallroom, into which the stairs opened. Here he lit one of the lights of the chandelier, and Nick saw in a glance that the parlor in the front communicated with this furnished hall, occupying the whole width of the house. They entered the parlor to discover little that was noteworthy. The window was open in the bay, and they could see in the parlor, what was not observable from the street, that a side window of the bay had been raised sufficiently to permit a rope to pass under the sash, and that the rope had been made fast around the division between the windows. There had been little, if any, disturbance of the furniture. On a sofa in the corner lay a silver mug. Nick pointed to the mug, without making comment upon it, however. “What room is that at the rear of the house?” he asked. “I suppose it might be called the library,” replied the young man, “since all the books that are in the house are there. It is the largest room in the house, and is occupied by the family in the evenings when the folks are at home.” “Then the family is not at home?” asked Nick. “No, Mr. Herron has gone to Chicago, and took his wife and daughter with him as a sort of a pleasure trip for them.” “Who are you?” “I am George Temple, a nephew of Mr. Herron.” “Are you a member of this family?” “In a way,” replied the young man Temple. “I am very intimate here, but I am here now only because the family are away. Uncle Jacob asked me to sleep here and guard their house in his absence.” “Well,” replied Nick, “it doesn’t seem as if you guarded it much.” “No,” laughed the young man, “I never heard anything until I heard the sound of the officer’s club on the door.” “Take us into that rear room.” Temple led the way across the hall to this room, which occupied the whole width of the house, lighting a jet of the chandelier. If there had been no indications of a robbery elsewhere, there were plenty to be seen in this room. Two handsome desks had been forcibly opened and rifled, the contents being scattered on the floor; that is to say, such as had not been carried away. The drawers of the bookcases had been pulled out, their contents hastily pulled over, much having been thrown on the floor. In a hasty glance about the room it did appear as if every object in it had passed under the hands of the thieves. There was not a picture hanging straight on the walls, and there were many in the room. “Mr. Temple,” asked Nick, “did your uncle keep anything of special value in this room?” “What do you mean by special value?” asked Mr. Temple. “Something which your uncle especially valued, was very careful of and generally kept hidden.” “I know of nothing of the kind,” replied Temple. “Why do you ask that particular question?” Nick pointed to the pictures, saying: