directly to the corner and pushed back the pivot door, struck a
match, and looked into the box.

It was empty.

Then, turning back to Farley, he searched him thoroughly.

There was no money in his pockets.

Ted called up Kit, and the three of them ransacked the living room
thoroughly, but not a dollar could be found. "What did you do with the
money you stole from that hole?" said Ted, gazing fiercely into Farley's
eyes.

"I haven't seen a dollar of it," was the reply.

CHAPTER XI.

TED STRONG HAS A THEORY.

After Farley had been securely locked up in a storeroom without windows,
they went to bed, feeling secure that there would be no further attempt
to enter the house that night.

At breakfast they discussed the robbery after their guests had left the
house.

"I don't understand what became of the money," said Ted. "It looks to me
like one of those mysterious robberies, and the capture of Farley puts
it up to the Riley and Creviss gang. Now that we've been touched
personally we will take some interest in the gang, and I have a large
crayon picture of about a dozen hitherto respectable young fellows
learning useful trades in a reformatory institution."

"But that doesn't bring back our money, neither does it tell us how it
was stolen or what became of it," said Ben.

"I can't get a thing out of Farley," said Ted. "I tackled him this
morning as soon as I got up, but he wouldn't open his mouth. My belief
is that he is in deadly fear of some one, probably Skip Riley."

"Well, we've got him where the hair is short, anyway," said Kit. "He was
caught in the act, and will come out of prison an older and a wiser
man."

"What else besides Farley did you see in the room, Ted?" asked Stella.

"I really couldn't say what it was," said Ted. "It was dark, and there
was only the faintest kind of light outside from the stars. The room was
perfectly dark. I was sitting on Farley's back holding him down. He had
thrown the door open, and we were in the doorway, but there was a space
between us and the door-jamb.

"Suddenly I heard a faint noise beside me and could just see something
scud past me onto the veranda."

"What did it look like?"

"It was about as high as a small dog, only shorter and thicker than a
dog, and ran with a clumsy, heavy, sideways motion."

"Are you sure it was a dog?"

"No, I'm not sure, for I didn't see it plainly. All I could see was that
it looked like some kind of an animal, but