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200 rascals are here they may take the alarm and skip out"

"There isn't any bell to ring," answered Tom, grimly. "There was once an old-fashioned knocker, but it has been broken off."

"I think one of us ought to try to get around to the back," said Dick. "If those rascals are here they may try to escape that way."

"That is true," returned Tom. "But let us make sure first that we have the right place. The folks living here may be all-right people, and they'd think it strange to see us spying around."

Dick looked up and down the street and saw a girl eight or nine years old sitting on a porch some distance away, minding a baby.

"Will you tell me who lives in that house?" he asked, of the girl.

"Why, old Mr. Mason lives there," was the answer.

"Mr. Mason?"

"Yes. He's a very old man—'most ninety years old, so they say."

"Does he live there alone?"

"Yes—that is, all the rest af his family are' dead. He has a housekeeper, Mrs. Sobber.

"Mrs. Sobber!" exclaimed Dick.

"Yes, sir."

"How old is she?"