in. The bed was
made up, but as the linen was fresh and unwrinkled it seemed certain
that no one had occupied it recently. The chief cause of the
disorder seemed to have been a hasty examination of the closet. A
roll of blankets and some other articles that had evidently been on
the shelf of the closet had been pulled down and scattered over the
bedroom floor. A couple of suits, and other articles of men's
attire, were hung on the hooks, apparently undisturbed. Morgan saw
that a speedy search had been made for something. Whether or not the
object had been found it was impossible to say.

Going back into the kitchen, and trying the rear door, he discovered
that, though closed, it was unlocked. He locked it, and returning to
the dining room, found that Marsh had succeeded in reviving the
girl. Tierney was also there, and the two men were chatting with
her.

"You seem to be having a good deal of trouble today," said Morgan,
as he neared her.

She smiled wanly at him.

"I can't understand it at all. Burglars must be extremely bold in
Chicago."

"Do you think it was a burglar?" asked Morgan.

"What else could it be?" she returned. "I am sure that I have no
enemies anywhere, and I haven't even any friends in Chicago."

"Are you keeping anything of special value in the house?" inquired
Morgan.

"Only what you can see about you," she replied "And these rings,
which have not been touched."

"You are sure you didn't have anything of value concealed in the
maid's room?"

"No, that's the room my father uses when he comes home from his
trips."

"Well, perhaps he had something of value there."

"I'm quite sure he did not," she said, positively.

"How do you feel now, Miss Atwood?" asked Marsh, catching the drift
of the questioning.

"Just a little bewildered," she replied, "and slightly nauseated,
but I think I shall be all right presently."

"Do you feel equal to looking over that room now?" Marsh inquired.

"I think so," she said, and with Marsh's assistance, she arose from
her chair.

Morgan led the way and the girl, leaning on Marsh's arm, followed.

"You see," said Morgan, when they had reached the maid's room,
"somebody has pulled everything off the shelf. Is there anything
missing as far as you know?"

Miss Atwood looked over the articles on the floor, glanced at the
empty shelf, and at the bottom of the closet. Then she turned to
Morgan. "My father had a suitcase on that shelf," she said. "I do
no