see you again," she said, in response to his Hello,--"Let me
come up, Mr. Midnight Visitor, please."

Partly the pleading voice, partly the fact that Peter was eager for new
developments in his devious course, and partly a sudden recollection of
the girl he had seen in his father's library, brought about a cordial
invitation to "come along."

And Zizi exultantly went, hoping against hope that she was on her way to
learn something of real importance.

For so many hopeful openings had proved blind alleys, so many bright
prospects of success had dimmed on nearer view, that Zizi had begun to
lose heart, and this seemed to her perhaps a last chance.

Peter received her in his sitting room, and as the big dark eyes looked
deep into the chicory blue ones, and both smiled, it was impossible to
be formal.

"Why are you a burglar, Mr. Bartram," Zizi said, as she seated herself
sociably in the depths of a big armchair. "You don't look the part a
bit."

"What is _your_ calling?" he countered; "for unless it is that of a
witch or Brownie, I'm sure _you_ don't look it."

"I am all of those things," she announced, calmly, crossing her dainty
feet and gazing guilelessly at him. "I'm a witch, a Brownie, a sprite,
an elf, a kobold, a pixie----"

"That's enough. They're all tarred with the same brush. And why am I
favored with this angel visit?"

"So you may answer my question, which you so rudely ignored. Why are you
a burglar?"

"But I'm not. Can your ingenuity suggest no explanation of a man's
presence in another man's house at midnight save a burglarious motive? I
took no jewels nor plate away with me."

"So you didn't. But, I admit motives seem scarce. You were not intending
a social call, were you? You didn't come to read the meter or repair the
plumbing? You were not seeking a lodging for the night?"

"None of those, Miss Brownie. But, why am I obliged to tell?"

"Because I ask it," and Zizi's pretty powers of coaxing were put to the
utmost test.

"I admit that constitutes an obligation, but, I am not going to meet
it," and the big man settled back comfortably in his chair and smiled
benignly but a trifle exasperatingly.

"Then,--" and the little brown face became serious, the merry light went
out of the dark eyes, and Zizi said, coldly, "Then I will tell you. You
are a burglar,--you did take valuables from Mr. Crane's house,--at least
they were valuable to you, though perhaps of small intrinsic worth."

"Whate