"I'm going to make a search for him. Look here, Ned, he must have been
taken away some time to-day--perhaps only a few hours ago--and they
can't have gone far with him."

"How do you make that out?" Ned wanted to know.

"Well, I guess I'm detective enough for that," and Tom smiled. "Look
here, the doors and windows are open. Now it rained last night, and
there was quite a wind. If the windows had been open in the storm
there'd be some traces of moisture in the rooms. But there isn't a drop.
Consequently the windows have been opened since last night."

"Say, that's so!" cried Ned admiringly.

"But that's not all," went on Tom. "Here's a bottle of milk on the
table, and it's fresh," which he proved by tasting it. "Now that was
left by the milkman either late last night or early this morning. I
don't believe it's over twelve hours old."

"Well, what does this mean?" asked Ned, who couldn't quite follow Tom's
line of reasoning.

"To my mind it means that the spies were here no later than this
morning. Look at the table upset, the dishes on the floor. Here's one
with oatmeal in it, and you know how hard and firm cooked oatmeal gets
after it stands a bit. This is quite fresh, and soft, and--"

"And that means--" interrupted Ned, who was in turn interrupted by Tom,
who exclaimed: