"It was for sure!" said Hugh. "What do you think of that?"

"It was going back to the old house probably."

"I guess it was. Perhaps after all, we should report to the police."

"Wait till after to-morrow," said Bob. "We'll go out in the morning and
take a look around there on our own account."

"We may have to spend to-morrow looking for your car."

"That's true, but let's wait and see what happens anyway."

They continued on their way homeward and soon came within the outskirts
of the town. The houses were darkened and apparently every one was in bed
and asleep. The sound of the boys' footsteps on the pavements echoed
loudly along the still, deserted streets.

"Here's Elm Street," said Hugh. "Let's turn down here; it's on our way
home and we can pass right by that stucco house."

"All right," Bob agreed, and they turned the corner.

"That's the place," whispered Hugh a few moments later.

"There's a light in the third story," said Bob in a low tone.

"Perhaps they're waiting up for that German bomb planter," chuckled
Hugh. "I guess he won't be home to-night."