I'll tell you how. You can tell your
father you saw Harry acting suspiciously near the house the evening it
is done."

"But the door would be locked."

"You can unlock it, and leave it unlocked all night. It will be found so
in the morning; and, even if the bonds are not immediately missed, the
circumstance will be remembered."

Philip's mind changed again. The plan looked more feasible and
attractive as Congreve represented it.

"Well, I don't know but I'll try it," he said.

"I thought you'd be sensible," said Congreve, inwardly rejoiced. "Now,
let me give you one piece of advice."

"What is that?"

"Strike while the iron's hot. If you want to know what that means, never
put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day."

"You don't mean I should go right home and do it?" said Philip,
nervously.

"No; wait till to-night--when everybody is in bed. Then steal downstairs
and do the job. The sooner it's over, the better!"

"I'll see about it," replied Philip, hesitatingly.

"He's a little coward," said Congreve to himself; "but I guess I can
bring him to it."

CHAPTER XXXII

PHILIP DOES NOT FEEL HAPPY

At supper time Philip seemed so sober and preoccupied that his mother
said:

"What ails you, Philip?"

"Nothing. What makes you ask?"

"I thought you were looking unusually sober."

"I suppose it is because I have a headache," answered the boy.

It was not a falsehood, for the burden upon his mind had actually given
him a slight headache.

"You'd better let me mix you some chamomile tea," said Mrs. Ross, with
whom this was a specific against more than one bodily disability.

"No, thank you," answered Philip, with an involuntary grimace; for, in
his younger days, when it was useless to resist, he had more than once
had an opportunity of learning how far from agreeable chamomile tea was
to the taste. "It doesn't ache much. It will be better soon."

"The tea will cure you immediately, my son."

"I won't take it," said Philip, roughly.

"Don't speak in that way to your mother, Philip," said his father,
reprovingly.

"Do you ever let her give you chamomile tea, father?"

"No," smiled the Colonel, "I don't require it."

"Nor I; and, if I did, I prefer the headache."

"I am not sure whether I don't agree with you," said his father, smiling
again.

When supper was over, Philip lounged about restlessly. Nothing could be
done as yet--nothing, indeed, till his father had retired and was fairl