CHAPTER XIII
THE LUCKY PIECE
When Hutchins heard of the nocturnal visit, he merely raised his eyebrows.
“I told you he was a slick one,” he said to Glenn. “I don’t blame you, though—you did your best. But he had the advantage in knowing the ways of his own house, and being able to run around in the dark.”
“Aw, I know this house well enough,” Glenn declared. “I haven’t lived here a week or more without knowing where the doors and halls run into each other, and all that. But it was his fighting that put me out of commission.”
“Jiu-jitsu?”
“Not a bit of it. But skillful, clever wrestling—like a professional. Why, I hadn’t a show. He didn’t hurt me a bit, but he just, well, he just sort of set me on one side. Then, as you say, he did know, even in the dark, just where he wanted to get to—and he got there.”
“And fooled you beside.”
“Yes, and fooled me beside. Of course, when I heard the front door slam open, I supposed he went out that way. And there, little cutie had swished the door open, with a flourish of trumpets, and then he had whisked himself through the house, and out at the good little old back door—so he had! Had the nerve to leave that flying open behind him, too!”
“Don’t worry, Glenn, if you had caught him you couldn’t have held him, and if you’d locked him in—he’d have got
