added, turning to the wondering faces at the other side of the
apartment, "you get as close as you wish while this man is talking,
but don't interrupt. It may be that we shall have to do something
right soon. I reckon our hunt for the prince starts right here, in
the Black Bear Patrol clubroom, in the heart of little old New York."

The servant Jack had beckoned to now entered the room and stood with
his back to the door, looking from one boyish face to another. He was
a heavily built, muscular fellow, evidently an Irishman, judging from
his face and manner.

"Will you kindly come over here and sit down?" Ned asked.

The servant complied and the others gathered around him.

"Now," Jack began, "tell Ned what you just told me--about the man in
the attic, and about the hole in the ceiling."

Every eye in the room was instantly turned toward the lofty ceiling,
but nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen there.

"The hole he refers to," Jack, smiling, explained, "is not in sight.
It is under the ornamental brass piece that circles the rod from
which the chandelier hangs. It was made to listen at, and not to see
through, I take it!"

"That makes a good starter," Ned smiled, "so go on."

"Half an hour ago," the servant began, "I was called to this floor by
one of the maids, Mary Murphy it was, and she was that scared she