"There's only one door to this house so how could anyone get out without pa.s.sing me? You must surely be mistaken."

"The person, whoever it was, didn't care to pa.s.s you coming in, or going out of the house, so climbed through the window. On his way out, he knocked some plants from the window-sill. Nothing has been stolen, so I can't see the object in ransacking the house."

"'Taint poss'ble you're nervous, and imagine someone's been in, is it?" he asked, anxiously scanning her face.

"Imagine?" Mrs. Seaford said. "Well, come in, and see what you think.

I've cleared the worst of it, but here's enough left to convince you."

He dropped the net on the sand, and went in. One look was enough.

"What in the world----!" he said, and no more, but his face spoke volumes.

It remained a mystery. Who would care to disturb the contents of the odd dwelling of the Seafords? Not a thief, surely, for it was well known that while the genial Captain had, at one time, been well to do, he had, for the past few years, had a struggle for existence. The old ship's hulk, inverted, and furnished for a home, held but one treasure, love, and that, priceless as it was, could not be stolen.

Who was the intruder? How had he come, and how had he vanished?

Dwellers at Cliffmore talked of it, at their homes, at church, and on the beach, but no one could give the slightest clue that might help in detecting the intruder.

Excitement usually lasted regarding one matter until another subject was suggested, when the villagers would turn with fresh interest to the latest bit of news.

Generally, it was a happening of small importance, that gained its prominence from having been frequently described, but one morning something occurred that shook the little fishing village, as Captain Seaford said, "from stem to stern."

When Mrs. Wilton, the housekeeper at Captain Atherton's Summer home, "The Cliffs," arose early one morning, she noticed that the Captain had forgotten the French window that opened on the porch. It evidently had been open on the evening before, and, by an oversight, had remained open all night. At a glance she saw that someone had been through the lower part of the house.

Drawers were wide open, their contents strewn upon the floor.

Flowers had been taken from the large jars that held them, and left with their wet foliage and stems lying upon the polished table.

Delicate pieces of china had been lifted from the lower shelves of the china closet, and placed upon the table, the window seats, and even the piano boasted two dainty cups that the visitor, whoever it might be, had placed upon the keyboard.

"Nothing is stolen," the housekeeper said, in reporting the mischief to Captain Atherton, "and all the queer doin's are on the first floor.

Do you see that it looks as if the same person that went all over Captain Seaford's house, has been roving through this one? Nothing was stolen there, but everything had been handled and pulled around."

"I'll go out into the garden and think it over," he replied.

He left the house, but as he reached the lower step that led from the piazza he saw that the bold intruder, not satisfied with the mischief perpetrated in the house, had tried his hand at the garden. Beautiful plants had been lifted from their pots and thrown onto the walk, the hose lay beside them, running a stream, the fountain had been set running, and an old broom, used by the gardener, to sweep the walks, lay in the lower basin of the fountain.

The housekeeper followed him out onto the piazza.

"If you please, sir, I'd like just to say that I locked every door and window, except the one that opens onto this piazza, from the library.

I went upstairs, knowing that you were still reading, and thinking you'd like that window open 'til you went to your room for the night, when you'd be sure to shut and lock it."

John Atherton nodded, and walked along the path. He knew that the housekeeper was anxious to shift all responsibility from her broad shoulders onto his.

"I guess I left that French window open, so that fault is mine, but who would be interested to rove through a home, pulling things to pieces, and making disorder, solely for the fun of doing it? Whoever it is, does not care to rob. It's a puzzle that must be looked into."

The children were greatly excited, and inclined to look upon Polly and Rose with envy.

It was interesting to listen while older people talked and argued as to how it happened, and what sort of person played the pranks. Before the Summer guests had half finished discussing the happening at Captain Atherton's house, they were again startled.

It was early one morning, a half hour before breakfast would be served, when a big, florid woman came down the stairway to the lower hall, declaring that someone had been in her room, doing a deal of mischief.

"Every article in my bureau drawer has been pulled out and thrown upon the floor, gowns have been removed from my closet, and are piled up on chairs in a heap, and my hats have been taken from their boxes and packed up on my bureau. Something must be done about it!" she declared in anger, and really one could not blame her.

The proprietor appeared, and promised all sorts of things to pacify the woman and there the matter appeared to end, for search as they would, no trace of the culprit could be found. The other guests felt uneasy.

"Who could possibly guess whose room will be ransacked next?" said one lady, to another who sat beside her at breakfast, to which the other replied:

"A few more happenings of this kind, and I'll pack my trunks, and leave for a place where I can, at least, expect law and order."

The guests of the hotel found it an interesting theme for conversation, and talked of it morning, noon and night, until old Mr.

Pendleton, the invalid, became so tired of hearing about it that his patience at last gave way.

"What a fuss! What a nuisance of a fuss! I declare. Women are upset if their finery is tossed around a bit. Nothing was stolen, so why complain? Why get excited?"

No one replied to his outburst. It was well known that to reply to Mr.

Pendleton was apt to provoke a torrent of abuse, so he was allowed to sit in his big chair in the corner of the piazza, looking with sharp, black, bead-like eyes from one woman to the other, silently amused, because he believed that they dared not answer.

He was a tough, wiry old man, not really ill, but believing himself to be an invalid, and enjoying the belief. Some one had heard a physician say that an event, or happening of any sort that would startle him into quick action would teach him that the health that he believed lost, was still in his possession.

One morning the queerest thing happened, and as it was just after breakfast, all the guests of the hotel were present to share the great excitement.

While the guests were at breakfast, the maids had put their rooms in order, and as it bid fair to be a hot day, nearly everyone decided to spend the morning on the broad piazza.

Mr. Pendleton, as usual, sat in his favorite corner. He was talking with another man about some distant city that each had often visited.

Evidently there was something about which they could not agree, for their voices rose in angry dispute.

"I'm right in my opinion!" shouted Mr. Pendleton, in his thin, shrill voice.

"And, sir, let me tell you that _I_ am right!" boomed the fat man in a growling ba.s.s.

"I'll get my map and prove what I say!" cried Mr. Pendleton, springing from his chair, and starting toward the hall.

The big man's laugh made him increase his speed. The other guests were amused, but they were not prepared for the next thing that happened.

Old Mr. Pendleton came tearing down the stairs, at the risk of breaking his neck, his cheeks flushed, and his small, black eyes blazing.

"It's an outrage! It's disgusting! It's not to be endured!" he shouted. "My room has been entered, and my belongings tossed about! My pajamas are spread out on the floor as if someone meant to take a pattern of them! My watch is soaking in the wash bowl, and my brush and comb are each in a slipper. My topcoat is out of the window and sprawling in the sun on the roof of this piazza, and every neck-tie I own is hanging from the chandelier! I won't stand it!"

He paused for breath, and the woman whom he had vexed a few days before, was so unwise as to speak:

"It might be well for you to realize just now that women are not the only ones who are upset when their finery is tossed about. As nothing was stolen, why complain? Why get excited?"

"Madam! You haven't the least idea of tact," he cried. "If you had you'd----" but before he could complete his speech, the proprietor arrived, and a much harder task he had to appease the wrath of Mr.

Pendleton, than that of the fat woman whose room had been entered a few days before.

The mystery might never have been solved but for something that occurred on the following morning.

A room on the second floor had windows looking out upon the sea. The door stood open, and a maid pa.s.sing along the hall, paused to look in.