"Oh, so am I," she agreed, "but of course I knew he couldn't be and look like that." The sheriff did not notice them in any way. His ridiculous little fat face tried to look grim, but only succeeded in looking funny. He was thinking very hard and wondering if the owner would approve of his actions. He had not bothered to explain, when he said he was a sheriff, that he was a retired one, without the slightest right in the world to make an arrest. "Where does the owner live?" Peter inquired, breaking a silence that had lasted a mile. "Never you mind where," the sheriff retorted; "all that concerns you is that you will find the owner at my house to-day." Peter and Janet exchanged glances. "We're in for it," Peter whispered, "but it can't be very bad, and anyway we will see him at last." "I'm almost sorry," Janet sighed. "He was always such a thrilling mystery to me. Do you suppose those are his gloves on the library table?" Peter did not have time to reply, for they were turning in at the gate of a big farm, and the sheriff whipped up his horse to make a gallant approach. Once on his own land he regained his assurance, and he opened the door of the tool house as though it were a dungeon cell. "You'll wait in here," he directed. There was nothing else to do, so in they went, and Janet heard the key grate in the rusty lock with a queer sinking feeling. But a look at Peter's face made her swallow her fears and manage a little laugh. "What do you suppose will happen next?" she asked. "Nothing very terrible," Peter assured her. "You see, we never did any harm to anything, and if we explain about the books, it ought to be all right." "That will depend on the owner,"--Janet's voice sounded frightened in spite of herself. "If he is nice, he will understand, and I suppose he is if he owns the Kingdom; still, why doesn't he live in it?" "Why, that's the mystery,"--Peter laughed. "We will find out soon enough. Mr. Sheriff is probably telling all about us now, and I guess he is not saying anything to help our case much." Janet was silent for a minute, then she drew a long heartfelt sigh. "Oh, Peter, do you realize that we can never go to the Kingdom again? It isn't enchanted any more; it's just a house that belongs to a man that probably has a bald head and whiskers." "I hadn't thought of that," Peter said gravely. The door opened, and the little man stood before them again. "Come with me," he said, and led the way to the house. "He's not nearly so starchy," Janet whispered; "maybe he is nice after all." "Of course he is," Peter assured her. They passed through a big clean kitchen, full of shiny pots and pans, and then into a dark little hall. "Wait here," their guide directed, as he shoved them into a little room that looked like an office. They waited, and a minute or two later the door opened.