In the distance appeared the headlights of an automobile rapidly approaching. The two boys hurried to one side of the road and took up their positions behind the shelter of some low growing bushes. The car was traveling fast and as it neared the spot where they were concealed they could hear the thunder of the cutout. A moment later it roared past them and disappeared. "Hugh," exclaimed Bob. "The gray roadster!" "It was for sure!" said Hugh. "What do you think of that?" "It was going back to the old house probably." "I guess it was. Perhaps after all, we should report to the police." "Wait till after to-morrow," said Bob. "We'll go out in the morning and take a look around there on our own account." "We may have to spend to-morrow looking for your car." "That's true, but let's wait and see what happens anyway." They continued on their way homeward and soon came within the outskirts of the town. The houses were darkened and apparently every one was in bed and asleep. The sound of the boys' footsteps on the pavements echoed loudly along the still, deserted streets. "Here's Elm Street," said Hugh. "Let's turn down here; it's on our way home and we can pass right by that stucco house." "All right," Bob agreed, and they turned the corner. "That's the place," whispered Hugh a few moments later. "There's a light in the third story," said Bob in a low tone. "Perhaps they're waiting up for that German bomb planter," chuckled Hugh. "I guess he won't be home to-night." "Don't joke about it, Hugh. I feel sorry for the man's family." "So do I, but I don't feel sorry for him." "I should say not! Anything they do to him won't be half bad enough." "The snake," muttered Hugh. "I'd like to have one look inside that room up there though and see what is going on." He glanced up at the lighted window questioningly. As he did so the shade was thrown up and the window opened by some man who thrust his head out and looked around. Bob and Hugh shrank back within the shadow of a nearby tree. They caught only a fleeting glimpse of the man's face, and saw that it was no one they knew. He had closely cropped hair and a bristling mustache turned up at the ends. "Who do you suppose that was?" whispered Bob a moment later, as the man they watched withdrew his head and shut the window. "Never saw him before," said Hugh. "He looked like a German though. Let's get home before he comes outside and begins to prowl around." Walking on the ground so that they would not make any noise they hurried on. A few moments later they stood in front of the Cooks' house. "There's a light in your house too," said Hugh. "This and that house on Elm Street are the only ones where people seem to be awake." "That's Lena's room," said Bob. "The cook?" "Yes." "She's a German, isn't she?"