When the fire was burning brightly, Prudence spoke with great assurance.  “I’ll just run in to the dungeon and see for sure if the money is there.  I do not honestly believe there is a soul in the house, but I can’t rest until I know that money is safe.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Fairy, “you’ll stay right here and wait with us.  I do not believe there’s any one in the house, either, but if there is, you shan’t run into him by yourself.  You stay right where you are, and don’t be silly.  Mr. Allan will do the investigating.”

Every breath of wind against the windows drew startled cries from the younger girls, and both Fairy and Prudence were white with anxiety when they heard the loud voices of the Allans outside the kitchen door.  Prudence began crying nervously the moment the two angels of mercy appeared before her, and Fairy told their tale of woe.

“Well, there now,” Mr. Allan said with rough sympathy, “you just got scared, that’s all.  Everything’s suspicious when folks get scared.  I told my wife the other day I bet you girls would get a good fright some time left here alone.  Come on, Jim, and we’ll go over the house in a jiffy.”

He was standing near the dining-room door.  He lifted his head suddenly, and seemed to sniff a little.  There was undoubtedly a faint odor of tobacco in the house.

“Been any men in here to-night?” he asked.  “Or this afternoon?  Think, now!”

“No one,” answered Prudence.  “I was alone all afternoon, and there has been no one in this evening.”

He passed slowly through the dining-room into the hall, closely followed by his son and the five girls, already much reassured.  As he passed the dungeon door he paused for a moment, listening intently, his head bent.

“Oh, Mr. Allan,” cried Prudence, “let’s look in the dungeon first.  I want to see if the money is safe.”  Her hand was already on the lock, but he shoved her away quickly.

“Is there any way out of that closet besides this door?” he asked.

“No.  We call it the dungeon,” laughed Prudence, her self-possession quite recovered.  “It is right under the stairs, and not even a mouse could gnaw its way out, with this door shut.”

“Who shut that door?” he inquired, still holding Prudence’s hand from the lock.  Then without waiting for an answer, he went on, “Let’s go back in the other room a minute.  Come on, all of you.”  In the living-room, he hurried to the telephone, and spoke to the operator in a low voice.  “Call the police headquarters, and have them send two or three men to the Methodist parsonage, right away.  We’ve got a burglar locked in a closet, and they’ll have to get him out.  Please hurry.”

At this, the girls crowded around him again in renewed fear.

“Don’t be scared,” he said calmly, “we’re all right.  He’s in there safe enough and can’t get out for a while.  Now, tell me about it.  How did you get him in the closet?  Begin at the beginning, and tell me all about it.”