Its lights showed him the way. Glancing in through its windows, he saw that some kind of a social gathering was in progress. He did not wait to ring at the front door bell. Dashing in, he electrified the people in the parlors with the announcement: “Burglars have just broken in at the big house next here! Hurry up and catch them!” A minute later half a dozen excited men were rushing toward Judge Oglesby’s mansion, Marcus bringing up the rear, lugging the satchel and Daley’s overcoat, and wondering what the outcome of the adventures of the night would be. They were tragic for one person at least--Dean Mercer. He had reached the mansion in advance of the burglars; but as he gained the garden, and was about to ring the door bell and arouse the sleeping Judge Oglesby, he hesitated. Vague fears assailed him, and he suddenly remembered that Marcus had warned him duly to follow out his instructions, keep himself and his companions in view, and leave it to him to strike a decisive blow. By warning the judge, Dean realized now he might upset all Marcus Ellison’s plans--perhaps involve Marcus in trouble and arrest. So, waveringly, he waited, and as he saw the two burglars and Marcus appear, trembled with direful apprehension. “They may murder the judge,” gasped Dean. He ran around to the library. To his surprise, he found a window up a few inches, although the inside blinds were closed. Dean pushed the window up and opened the blinds. He now stood in the library, and began groping his way about in the dark. He had considerable knowledge of the lay-out of the house, and had an idea of reaching the staircase, creeping up it, and, gaining the chambers, arouse the sleeping inmates. Halfway across the room he paused. Some one seemed just to have entered the room. Dean uttered a startled, cry as this person brushed against him. A hand seized his throat. “Who are you?” a gruff voice demanded. Then the intruder flashed a dark-lantern from under his coat. It was Daley. The clothes Dean wore were of precisely the same material as those of Marcus Ellison. His appearance completely deceived the excited burglar. “I thought I told you to stay outside?” he growled. “I--I----” “Be cautious. Follow me, I’ve got the box of cash.” He had put up the lantern again, but not before Dean saw that in his hand he bore a small tin box. A desperate resolve came into Dean’s mind. Through him, though innocently, Judge Oglesby had already lost a small fortune. The tin box probably contained several thousand dollars. “I’ll rescue it. I’ll give the alarm, come what may,” breathed Dean excitedly. With a quick move, the venturesome boy placed his impulsive plan in operation. He glided forward and suddenly wrenched the tin box from the hand of the amazed Daley. Then he dashed for the next room. “You scoundrel! What do you mean?” “Thieves! murder! help! help! help!” In ringing tones the wild alarm echoed on the silent air of the house.