There ain't a closet or a pair o' curtains or a
shower bath or bookcase or a screen or bureau or table or bed that's
had a chance to keep a secret from us---"
"Did you ever hear the song of 'The Mistletoe Bough?'" inquired the
doubter.
"You bet we did. You don't have to show us! We snooped all around the
trunk room and rummaged in every box big enough to hold a dwarf. None
of 'em was locked, but if they had been--why, we go around prepared."
"You don't look as if you'd done much prowling in the coal cellar,
anyhow!" laughed Peter.
"That's because there ain't enough coal in it to dirty a dove,"
explained the policeman. "Why, we even had a squint into the wine bins
and the kitchen pantries and under the sink and into a laundry basket.
There ain't a fly on the wall in this house but we wouldn't know its
face if we met it again!"
They all laughed once more, and none more loudly than Logan, though
he had given Peter Rolls a puzzled glance for each new and apparently
aimless question.
"If I wrote those detective stories, I'd use this for a plot," Petro
went on; "but it wouldn't be much good to the magazines the way it's
turned out.
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