"Then I'll throw you out. I paid you your wages to the end of the week. You can consider yourself dismissed. If you don't go--" Muchmore paused, but there was such a fierce look on his face, as he strode toward Bert and the stenographer, that, though neither of them was a coward, they judged it best not to provoke the man too much. "Oh, we'll go," replied the stenographer. "But I warn you that you haven't heard the last of this. This place will be searched, by the proper authorities, and that prisoner, whoever he is, will be released." "There is no prisoner there," retorted Muchmore. "And I'd like to see the authorities here, or from anywhere else, search this house without my permission. A man's house is his castle, here as much as in England. Now you have my answer, and you can do your worst!" "I'll inform Mr. Stockton," threatened Bert. "Do, you young rascal, when you can find him," and, with a laugh, Muchmore motioned his two unwelcome visitors to leave. "Well, we didn't find out much," remarked the stenographer, as he and Bert were descending the hill toward the village. "I'm afraid I made rather a mess of it. He came back unexpectedly." "Maybe he never went away." "Mrs. Blarcum said he was going to be gone all night." "I believe she's in with him. But we certainly learned one thing. Some person is a prisoner in the house, and it's a man who wants to get out." "And we'll help him," added Mort. "I'll inform the authorities in the morning." "Where will you stay to-night?" asked Bert. "I don't know. I guess I'll go to the hotel." "It isn't a very good place. Better come to my house. There are only mother and I, and we have a spare room for you." "You are very kind. I'll come." Mrs. Dare welcomed the stenographer, and, after he and Bert had talked over the queer events of the evening, they went to bed, intending to start an official inquiry the first thing in the morning. But fate took a hand in the matter, and the mystery was solved sooner than Bert or Mort expected it would be. In the middle of the night there was an alarm of fire. It came from the box on the hill, near the Stockton mansion, and Bert, hearing the clanging of the bell on the tower, awoke with a start and began to dress. "Where is the blaze?" asked Mort. "Somewhere up near the house of mystery. I hope it isn't another false alarm." "May I go with you?" asked the stenographer. "Of course. Hurry." Mort quickly dressed, and he and Bert, the latter making his usual promise to his mother that he would be careful, were soon hastening from the house, and toward the location of the box, where they would meet the engine. "It's no false alarm!" exclaimed Mort, as they began to climb the hill leading to the big house. "You're right. It's a fire, but it doesn't seem to be very big. The engine is there; I can hear the bell."