Elaine, by this time, had turned on the lights and had run to the
window to look out. Rusty was barking loudly.
In a side street, nearby, stood a waiting automobile, at the wheel
of which sat another of the emissaries of the Clutching Hand. The
driver looked up, startled, as he saw his fellow hurry around the
corner carrying the wounded Pitts Slim. It was the work of just a
moment to drop the wounded man, as comfortably as possible under
the circumstances, in the rear seat, while his pals started the
car off with a jerk in the hurry of escape.
Jennings, having hastily slipped his trousers on over his pajamas
came running down the hall, while Marie, frightened, came in the
other direction. Aunt Josephine appeared a few seconds later,
adding to the general excitement.
"What's the matter?" she asked, anxiously.
"A burglar, I think," exclaimed Elaine, still holding the gun in
her hand. "Someone tried to get into my window."
"My gracious," cried Aunt Josephine, in alarm, "where will this
thing end?"
Elaine was doing her best now to quiet the fears of her aunt and
the rest of the household.
"Well," she laughed, a little nervously, now that it was all over,
"I want you all to go to bed and stop worrying about me. Don't you
see, I'm perfectly able to take care of myself? Besides, there
isn't a chance, now, of the burglar coming back.
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