cranny that
a man might have hidden in, and found no trace of any one having
entered the house anywhere.

The little gathering stared about with questioning, bewildered
eyes, and no one felt any happier for the news. The fact remained
that a shot had been fired by a mysterious being who had apparently
vanished into air. For what purpose had that shot been fired? At
what? At whom?

"I can't make it out," said Robertson. "There seems no sense in a
fellow coming and letting off fireworks in the middle of the night
for nothing."

"Perhaps it is a trick of some sort," suggested Mrs. Orban; "some
one trying to frighten us. But I don't see that that is possible."

"Nor I," said Robertson. "People aren't in the habit of playing
practical jokes without some purpose in them hereabouts. All the
same, it doesn't seem much good all of you staying up like this. If
you'll just get back to your beds, I'll watch for the rest of the
night. It may be a better way of trapping a chap, if he hasn't got
clean away by now. That is the most likely thing, of course--his
firearm probably went off inadvertently as he was coming round the
veranda, and he knew he had done for himself, so made tracks at
once. He might come back as soon as he thought the house was quiet
again, but I don't expect him."

No one felt much inclined to take Robertson's practical advice. At
the same time it seemed foolish to stay up and exhaust themselves
for nothing, and Mrs. Orban agreed that every one should go to bed.

Eustace went very reluctantly. He would have liked to stay up and
share Robertson's watch like a man; it seemed so childish to be
sent to bed after taking part in such an excitement. He wondered
what Nesta would have thought of it had she been there.

"Goodness, wouldn't she have been scared!" he reflected. "I do
wonder what she would have done."

At least there would be plenty to tell her when she came home. She
might be having a jolly time; but Eustace guessed, when it was all
over, she would be disappointed at having been out of such
adventures as these. There was a sort of glow about the realization
that they were such very real adventures--experiences that did not
come every day and to every one. The only stupid part about it was
having to go to bed.

Mrs. Orban felt no glow in her realization of the situation. She
longed for her husband, and wondered how she was going to bear his
absence much longer. If this sort of thing were to go on