The bare room offered but few places of concealment, under the bed, within the washstand, a shallow clothes closet in the wall. They even looked in the bureau drawers. Finally Delehanty with a grunt, moved towards the door. Pen's heart swelled big with triumph. She glanced at Delehanty's cigar. "Would you mind leaving the window open?" she said cuttingly. At a nod from the chief, one of the men flung up the sash. Pen felt a little quiver of inward laughter. There was something humorous in making the enemy transmit one's signals. All left the room and Pen locked the door. She handed the key to her father. "Please put it where you got it." Delehanty fixed her with an irascible, suspicious eye. "You come along with us the rest of the way, Miss. I want no trickery!" Pen shrugged. The search went on, that queer crew straggling through the rooms accompanied by their grotesque up-flung shadows. Through Pen's sewing-room and into Pendleton's bed-room. From thence they passed into the extraordinary room behind where he kept all his "Collections." He never threw anything away. Everything under the sun was to be found there. All around the walls were rickety, home-made tables heaped with his impedimenta. All this occupied the searchers quite a while. They threw his stuff about regardless of his protests. Finally there was the third story which Pen had long ago given up to dust and spiders and last of all the "cupalow" into which Keesing to Pen's amusement, ascended with drawn revolver. In the end Delehanty stamped down-stairs in a villainous temper, his soft-footed sleuths at his heels. At the front door Pendleton attempted to recover his dignity. "Now I trust you'll favor me with some explanation," he began. "Ah! ask your daughter for the explanation!" snarled the detective. "Take my advice, and keep her home nights!" They all went. Pendleton turned to Pen aghast. "What did he mean by that?" But Pen's heart was dancing. An irresponsible gale of laughter caught her up. She had a wicked impulse to see her father's bare feet twinkle. She caught his wrists (he still had the candle) and attempted to whirl him around. "Oh joy! Oh joy! Oh joy!" she cried. "They're gone!" "_Pen_! Have you gone crazy," he protested. "Yes, it's the heat!" "Be quiet! What did the man mean?" "How do I know? A man will say anything when he's sore ... Come on back to bed." She pulled him wildly to the foot of the stairs, Pendleton leaning back, and his bare feet slapping the floor absurdly. Pen laughed so she had to sit on the bottom step to recover. "Your levity is very ill-timed!" he said severely. That only made her laugh the more. "Come on! Come on!" she said, dragging him up-stairs. At the door of his room she kissed him, and gave him a push inside. She flew across to her own room and let herself in. "Don! Don!" she just breathed, holding out her hands. There was no answer.