These three men might have gone out by the front door. But, according to Patsy, the caretaker was still there, because he had come out only a minute before Nick opened the study door. Patsy had watched him from the window, and had seen him go down the yard to look at the outside of the tool house. Then he had sauntered back, lighted a pipe, and gone into the house, smoking, as if he had no intention of moving away--for a while, at all events. “We’ve got to get that caretaker, first of all,” whispered Nick. He opened the door of the kitchen that led to the other part of the house, closely followed by his two assistants. There was a dark hall which seemed to run through to the front door, and the three explorers crept along till they got to another door. When they opened this, they were startled by a rush of sunlight. It gave out upon the little, paved yard in front of the house, with the avenue beyond. Standing in the yard and leaning over the iron railings, as he puffed at a pipe so strong that it polluted the whole block, was the caretaker. He was enjoying the leisurely panorama of the early morning, apparently with nothing on his mind. Nick pulled his assistants back to the dark hall, and locked and bolted the door in silence. “He didn’t see us, and we don’t want him to come in,” he whispered. “We will look through the house. I don’t believe those fellows have gone out. It is my opinion they intended to go out to the tool house later and dispose of you, Chick.” “Very likely,” assented Chick coolly. “I don’t care what they intended, now that I know they won’t be able to do it. I’m going upstairs.” “Not without me,” grunted Patsy. Cautiously they crept up to the main floor, and went into the dining room, the door of which was a little way open. The curtains were drawn at the window, but there was enough light for them to see that the furniture was all shrouded in denim, and that the pictures on the walls had been covered with sheets. The effect was ghostly, but it was natural enough. The owners of the house wanted their belongings to be kept as fresh as possible while they were away. The other rooms on this floor were also wrapped in cloths, and all were so silent that it was difficult to imagine them full of life and brightness, as probably they were when the family was at home. To the next floor went the three investigators, and there they found a handsome drawing-room in front and two smaller rooms behind, that probably were used as a cardroom and my lady’s special sitting room. “That’s a fine grand piano over there,” observed Patsy, in a whisper. “Gee! I’d like to hear some ragtime on that.” Patsy Garvan had a way of being incongruous without knowing it. When an idea came into his head, he was liable to give it utterance, regardless of where he might be.