“Oh, she'll believe it, all right,” said the inventor cheerily. “For once--just for once, Griggs--something has happened which my better half won't be on to. You'll see I'm right. There isn't a clue.” “Well, perhaps,” I sighed. “And now let's have some of that old Scotch. I feel a little weak.” We loitered into the next apartment--the dining-room. We turned our footsteps toward the sideboard. We stopped--both of us--as if transformed to stone. The door was off the silver-safe. The drawers lay about the floor. And the little safe itself was as empty as the day it left the cabinet-maker! “D-d-d'you see it, too?” cried Hawkins in a scared, husky voice. “Yes,” I replied, stooping to look into the safe. “It must have been a sneak-thief, Hawkins. Every vestige of your beautiful service is gone!” The inventor glared long at the wreck. “And now that's got to be explained,” he muttered at last, continuing his journey to the sideboard. “How can I get around it?” He poured out a generous dose of the Scotch, imbibed it at a swallow, and shuffled drearily back to the library, where he dropped once more into a chair and stared through fast-swelling eyes at the glazed tile fire-place. And I? Well, just then I heard Mrs. Hawkins' step on the vestibule flooring without; she had returned for the minutes of the last meeting. The bell rang. I walked quickly upstairs to call up the police and notify them. It wasn't my place to answer that bell, with William in the house. CHAPTER IX. The gathering at the Hawkins' home that night was, I suppose, in the nature of a house-warming. The Blossoms, the Ridgeways, the Eldridges, the Gordons were there, in addition to perhaps a dozen and a half other people whom I had never met. Also, Mr. Blodgett was there. Old Mr. Blodgett is Hawkins' father-in-law. There is a Mrs. Blodgett, too, but she is really too sweet an old lady to be placed in the mother-in-law category. Blodgett, however, makes up for any deficiencies on his wife's part in the traditional traits. He seems to have analyzed Hawkins with expert care and precision--to have appraised and classified his character and attainments to a nicety. Consequently, Hawkins and Mr. Blodgett are rarely to be observed wandering hither and thither with their arms about each other's waists. Finally, I was there myself with my wife. It seems almost superfluous to mention my presence. Whenever Hawkins is on the verge of trouble with one of his contrivances, some esoteric force seems to sweep me along in his direction with resistless energy. Sometimes I wonder what Hawkins did for a victim before we met--but let that be. Dinner had been lively, for the guests were mainly young, and the wines such as Hawkins can afford; but when we had assembled in the drawing-room, conversation seemed to slow down somewhat, and to pass over to a languid discussion of the house as a sort of relaxation. Then it was that a pert miss from one of the Oranges remarked: