ented no difficulties. Of ways of entering
his house Jimmie knew a dozen, and, once inside, from cellar to attic he
could move blindfolded. His bedroom, where was the copy of "Pickwick" in
which he had placed the will, was separated from his wife's bedroom by
her boudoir. The walls were thick; through them no ordinary sound could
penetrate, and, unless since his departure Jeanne had moved her maid or
some other chaperon into his bedroom, he could ransack it at his
leisure. The safe in which he would replace the will was in the
dining-room. From the sleeping-quarters of Preston, the butler, and the
other servants it was far removed.

Cautiously in the black shadows of the trees Jimmie reconnoitred. All
that was in evidence reassured him. The old farmhouse lay sunk in
slumber, and, though in the lower hall a lamp burned, Jimmie knew it was
lit only that, in case of fire or of an intruder like himself, it might
show the way to the telephone. For a moment a lace curtain fluttering at
an open window startled him, but in an instant he was reassured, and had
determined through that window to make his entrance. He stepped out of
the shadows toward the veranda, and at once something warm brushed his
leg, something moist touched his hand.

Huang Su, his black chow, was welcoming him home. In a sudden access of
fright and pleasure Jimmie dropped to his knees. He had not known he had
been so lonely. He smothered the black bear in his hands. Huang Su
withdrew hastily. The dignity of his breed forbade man-handling, and at
a safe distance he stretched himself nervously and yawned.

Jimmie stepped to the railing of the veranda, raised his foot to a cleat
of the awning, and swung himself sprawling upon the veranda roof. On
hands and knees across the shingles, still warm from the sun, he crept
to the open window. There for some minutes, while his eyes searched the
room, he remained motionless. When his eyes grew used to the
semidarkness he saw that the bed lay flat, that the door to the boudoir
was shut, that the room was empty. As he moved across it toward the
bookcase, his stockinged feet on the bare oak floor gave forth no
sound. He assured himself there was no occasion for alarm. But when,
with the electric torch with which he had prepared himself, he swept the
book-shelves, he suffered all the awful terrors of a thief.

His purpose was to restore a lost fortune; had he been intent on
stealing one he could not have felt more deepl