Generally they stayed out quite a long time. But there was one afternoon when they started, and came quickly back. Feeling unusually tired, Miss Babs went at once upstairs to her room and Toory resumed his silent, motionless wait-command in the foyer recess. For a while there was nothing for his eye-beams to follow. Then he heard the soft tread of Higgins moving about in the library. In the quiet, somber dimness, Toory's eye-beams shifted. Through the foyer archway he could see Higgins clearly. The steward was sliding back a wall panel, disclosing a big square metal box which was built solidly into the space behind it. As Toory watched, Higgins turned a knob on the box. It opened, and Higgins took something out and dropped it into his right coat pocket--something which for an instant as Higgins held it, sparkled in the faint light. Toory had seen the sparkling object before. He had seen it on Miss Babs' neck, and he recognized it instantly. It was a new incident. Never before had he seen anyone open the big metal box except Babs and her father. Higgins closed the box at once, wiping it off carefully with his handkerchief. It was like watching Annie dusting furniture. Then he slid the panel closed, wiped that off also, and came quickly out into the foyer. His tread was almost silent on the heavy rugs as he went back toward the pantry. In the foyer suddenly he noticed Toory. It seemed to frighten him. "Gawd! It saw me!" he muttered to himself. "The blarsted machine--" All the rest of that afternoon Toory could feel confusion faintly stirring in him, because what Higgins had done had been something _new_. He was vaguely relieved when Nerina passed him, going upstairs with Miss Babs' supper. "Hello, Toory," she said as she went past. "Hello," he responded. There were no visitors that evening. Mr. Doret had gone away for about a week, and in his absence the house was much quieter. Still under wait-command, Toory stood in the hall with almost nothing to see, and little to hear. At midnight he automatically shifted to be on guard-command. It had been part of his training, and after a little while he had never failed to respond properly to the surprise tests the Instructor had devised for him. Now Toory's sight-beams were intensified, compensating the dimmer light; and the audio-circuits were at the highest magnification. He could hear many faint and distant tiny sounds, sounds which no human ear could distinguish. Already he was familiar with the accustomed sounds of the night. There was always the faint whir of the many electronic appliances in the house, blending with the ponderous ticking of the big hall clock. And often the stir of the breeze under the eaves. Especially on windy nights. Distant murmurs of voices inside the house always came distinctly to Toory when he was on guard-command. A few floated to him now.