"It was something of a job I can tell you, but when I sets my mind to a thing I sets my mind to it, and ropes and a kitchen chair ain't got the power to stop me. I begun wriggling as soon as I heard the burglar shut the door behind him, and I kept on wriggling for every minute of the five hours. A tramped-on worm never did more turning and wriggling than I did between two and seven this morning, and at last wriggling being its own reward, I wriggled free, first with my hands and then with my feet. But before I got my feet free, I undid the band and ungagged myself and said just a few of the things that was bottled up all that time. The Bible says there's a time to talk and a time to be still, but there's such a thing as overdoing the still time, I think, and when you're gagged by a burglar is one of 'em." Susan sipped her tea for a moment in silence. "Where's Jathrop and Mr. Kettlewell?" she asked at length. "Ain't they up yet?" Mrs. Lathrop nodded. "They start--" she began. "You don't mean they've both lit out already?" asked Susan in surprise. Then: "I was hoping to see Mr. Kettlewell again. But it's a long journey back to New York, so I suppose they set off before light." Mrs. Lathrop nodded once more. "Aren't--?" she questioned. "I certainly am. I'm going to report the burglary at once. I've got a clue, and it ought to be easy enough to run down that burglar." She drew from her bosom a rather damp handkerchief. "That's what he left me to chew on for five hours," she said, as she spread it out. "And there's the clue right there in the corner." Mrs. Lathrop took it to the window and inspected it through her glasses. The handkerchief was initialed with a "K." The New Year came and January was passing and, so far as Susan Clegg cared to divulge at least, there was no news of her burglar. It was noted, however, not only by Mrs. Lathrop, but by Mrs. Macy and Gran'ma Mullins, and indeed by all the ladies of the Sewing Society, that Miss Clegg had adopted an air of secretiveness concerning the matter that was quite foreign to her usual frank, unreserved communicativeness. But the curiosity provoked by this strangely unfamiliar attitude was swallowed up in the sensational tidings which spread throughout the community shortly after. Without so much as a hint of warning, Susan Clegg had vanished between dark and dawn, leaving her house locked, bolted, and barred, the blinds drawn, and the shutters fast closed.