t see it there now."

"Oh," murmured Morgan. "Was it an empty suitcase?"

"I really couldn't tell you. I never examined it, as it was always
pretty well hidden under a lot of other things."

"I see," said Morgan. "The burglar evidently stole only the
suitcase, thinking perhaps there was something of value in it. We'd
better go now," he added, turning to the others. "Miss Atwood will
want to lie down and rest after her exciting day."

When they reached the front door, Morgan turned to her. "Do you
expect your father home soon, Miss Atwood?" he inquired.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "I haven't read my letter yet. You see, I had
just reached the dining room when that burglar attacked me."

"You need not worry about any further disturbances or attacks, Miss
Atwood," Morgan assured her. "There will be a policeman at the front
and back of this house inside of an hour, and they will stay here
until we clear up this case."

"And remember that I live close at hand, on the floor below, Miss
Atwood," reminded Marsh. "If there is anything I can do to help you
at any time, don't fail to call upon me."

"Thank you," she replied, and closed the door as the men went down
the stairs.

CHAPTER XI

THE TRAIL GROWS CLEARER

"I want to use your telephone for a minute," Morgan said to Marsh,
as they went down the stairs. "I want to have men put on duty here
as soon as possible, and I think it would be well to send out that
description you have of Atwood. We might catch him at one of the
railway stations, trying to leave the city."

Marsh unlocked the door of his apartment and Morgan immediately went
to the telephone. He gave the Detective Bureau a description of
Atwood, added that the man would probably be carrying a suitcase,
and suggested that all outgoing trains be watched. Then he got the
captain of the precinct on the telephone, and after explaining the
attacks that had taken place, was assured that two men would be
placed on duty to watch the house within a few minutes.

"Good Lord, I'm starving to death!" cried Tierney, as Morgan left
the telephone. "What time is it, anyway?"

Morgan glanced at his watch.

"Three-thirty," he replied. "Now you speak of it, Tierney, I feel
kind of hungry, myself. How about you, Marsh?"

"It was on my mind to suggest a little luncheon," returned Marsh.
"Suppose we run down to Sally's Waffle Shop. It's only a block
south, and it would be a quiet place to talk things over while we
ar