Although I was no expert at wiring, I started to make the connections under the table with the drawer, not a very difficult thing to do as long as it was to be only temporary and for the night.  From the table I ran the wires along the edge of the carpet until I came to the book-case.  There, masked by the books, I placed the little quick shutter camera, and at a distance also concealed the flash-light pan.

Next I aimed the camera carefully and focussed it on a point above the drawer on the writing-table where any one would be likely to stand if he attempted to open it.  Then I connected the shutter of the camera and a little spark coil in the flash-pan with the wires, using an apparatus to work the shutter such as I recalled having seen Craig use.  Finally I covered the sparking device with the flash-light powder, gave a last look about and snapped off the light.

Up in my bedroom, I must say I felt like “some” detective and I could not help slapping myself on the chest for the ingenuity with which I had duplicated Craig.

Then I lay down on the bed with my clothes on and picked up a book, determined to keep awake to see if anything happened.  It was a good book, but I was tired and in spite of myself I nodded over it, and then dropped it.

. . . . . . .

In his bungalow, now that Smith had gone back again to New York and Washington, Del Mar was preparing to keep the important engagement he had told us about, another of his nefarious nocturnal expeditions.

He drew a cap on his head, well over his ears and forehead.  His eyes and face he concealed as well as he could with a mask to be put on later.  To his equipment he added a gun.  Then with a hasty word or two to his valet, he went out.

By back ways so that even in the glare of automobile headlights he would not be recognized, he made his way to Dodge Hall.  As he saw the house looming up in the moonlight he put on his mask and approached cautiously.  Gaining the house, he opened a window, noiselessly turning the catch as deftly as a house-breaker, and climbed into the living-room.

A moment he looked around, then tiptoed over to the table.  He looked at it to be sure that it was the right one and the right drawer.  Then he bent down to force the drawer open.

“Pouf!” a blinding flash came and a little metallic click of the shutter, followed by a cloud of smoke.

As quick as it happened, there went through Del Mar’s head, the explanation.  It was a concealed camera.  He sprang back, clapping his hands over his face.  Out of range for a moment, he stood gazing about the room, trying to locate the thing.

Suddenly he heard footsteps.  He dived through the window that he had opened, just as some one ran in and switched on the lights.

. . . . . . .

Half asleep, I heard a muffled explosion, as if of a flash-light.  I started up and listened.  Surely some one was moving about down-stairs.  I pulled my gun from my pocket and ran out of the room.  Down the steps I flung myself, two at a time.