me simple reason for its being gone, and I
didn't stop to look for it, as I was only striking matches to find what
I wanted." She made a face. "For all I know, the burglar was right in
this room at that very minute!"

"Pity you didn't run on to him," grunted Simon. "What are you
suggesting, anyway?"

"I think your burglar came in here and noticed the dagger--he probably
had a flash--and decided it was just what he needed in his business!
He opened the desk with it, and unless he dropped it around somewhere
when he was finished with it, I guess _I've_ been robbed, _too_."

"Huh. Wasn't valuable, was it?" asked Simon impatiently.

"Well, I don't care about losing it--thanks for your kind and
sympathetic interest!" retorted his sister-in-law tartly. "Thank you,
Bates, that's all."

"Yes, Miss Ocky." The old man bowed. "Good night, sir," he said, for
the third time that night.

"I'll be off, too," said Miss Ocky, moving toward the door, where she
lingered for a parting shot. "If I were you, Simon, I'd either have my
locks seen to or else have my more valuable possessions nailed down.
Good morning!"

She was gone before he could think of an effective retort. He occupied
himself briefly in dragging a heavy chair against the broken window,
then put out the lamp and went into his study. Bed seemed to make no
appeal, though there was a suggestion of weariness in the way he
dropped into his chair before the desk. He was mentally tired.

Who had dealt him this latest blow--a shrewder one than he had
confessed to Ocky. That notebook full of formulas, the results of a
lifetime of experiment and research, would be worth more than a gold
mine to a competitor. There were men in the business who would pay
handsomely for the picking of Simon Varr's brain! But who had known
that, and turned his knowledge to advantage by the crooked way of
burglary?

Two names kept bobbing up in the back of his brain. Copley was one;
Graham the other. Either might have done it, or they might have
entered into an unholy partnership of crime. Both knew the value of
the notebook, and both had seen it in his desk that evening. Where had
they been since? He had not noticed either of them at the fire; had
they been robbing his desk while they knew him safely absent?

No sentiment played any part in these cogitations. He measured the
possibility of his son's guilt as coldly as if the young man had been a
complete stranger--or an