"If it was," said Mr. Griscom, "I am ready to do a little joking myself. I'm just enough of a joker to want to see whoever it was in jail. My house is my house--it is my castle, as the saying is--and I don't want strangers wandering in and out of it, whether they come to take away my property, or leave property that is not mine. Is there, or is there not, a law against such things as happened at my house?" "Oh, there's a law all right," said Marshal Wittaker. "It's burglary, whether the burglar breaks into your house or breaks out of it. How do you know he broke out?" "Well, my wife and I went to the Riverbank Theater last night," said Mr. Griscom, "and when I got home and went to put the key in the keyhole, there was another key in it. Here are the two keys." Marshal Wittaker took the two keys and examined them. One was an old doorkey, much worn, and the other a new key, evidently the work of an amateur key-maker. "All right," said Marshal Wittaker, when he had examined the keys. "This new one was made out of an old spoon. Go ahead." "We never had a key like that in the house," said Mr. Griscom. "But when we reached home last night, this nickel-silver key was sticking in the lock of the front door, on the outside, and the door was unlocked and standing ajar." "Just as if some one had gone in at the front door and left it unlocked," said Mr. Wittaker. "Exactly!" said Mr. Griscom. "So the first thing we thought was 'Burglars!' and the first place my wife looked was the sideboard, in the dining-room, and there--" "Yes," said Mr. Wittaker. "There, on the sideboard, were a dozen solid silver spoons you had never seen before." "And marked with my wife's initials--understand!" said Mr. Griscom. "And the cellar window--the one on the east side of the house--had been broken out of." "Why not broken into?" asked the Marshal. "Well, I'm not quite a fool," said Mr. Griscom with some heat. "I know because of the marks his jimmy made on the sill." "Some one has been playing a joke on you," said Mr. Wittaker. "You wait, and you'll see. You won't be offended if I ask you a question?" "My wife knows no more about it than I do," said Mr. Griscom hotly. "Now, now," said Mr. Wittaker soothingly. "I didn't mean that. What are your own spoons, solid or plated?" "Plated," said Mr. Griscom. "Well," said Mr. Wittaker, "there's where to look for the joke. Try to think who would consider it a joke to send you solid silver spoons." "Billy Getz!" exclaimed Mr. Griscom, mentioning the town joker. "That's the man I had in mind," said Mr. Wittaker. "Now, I guess you can handle this alone, Mr. Griscom." "I guess I can," agreed Mr. Griscom. And he went out. The Marshal chuckled. "Un-burgled!" he said to himself. "That's a new one for sure! That's the sort of burglary to set Philo Gubb, the un-detective, on."