ink. The heat of the burner brought it out into sight."

What was it about?

. . . . . . .

Elaine had gone to bed that night at Aunt Tabby's in the room
which her old nurse had fixed up especially for her. It was a very
attractive little room with dainty chintz curtains and covers and
for the first time in many weeks Elaine slept soundly and
fearlessly.

Down-stairs, in the living-room, Rusty also was asleep, his nose
between his paws.

The living-room was in keeping with everything at Aunt Tabby's,
plain, neat, homelike. On one side was a large fireplace that gave
to it an air of quaint hospitality.

Suddenly Rusty woke up, his ears pointed at this fireplace. He
stood a moment, listening, then, with a bark of alarm he sped
swiftly from the living-room, up the stairs at a bound, until he
came to Elaine's room.

Elaine felt his cold nose at her hand and stirred, then awoke.

"What is it, Rusty?" she asked, mindful of the former days when
Rusty gave warning of the Clutching Hand and his emissaries.

Rusty wagged his tail. Something was wrong.