"Almost human intelligence," Rob laughed. "And take the lantern with us, to find the handkerchief with."
"Right-o!" said Peanut.
It was time now to start for the dinner party. They tied the handkerchief to the bushes by the path, and everybody counted his own steps out to the road, in case the mark should be lost, or taken down by some passer-by. Then they moved up the road, past the gaily lighted Profile House, where they could see the guests eating in the big dining-room with its large plate glass windows, and again rang the bell of Mr. Goodwin's house—but more quietly this time.
A servant ushered them in, and Mr. Goodwin and his wife and son and daughter at once came forward to greet them. The house was elaborately furnished for a summer "cottage," and the boys were rather conscious of their scout clothes and especially of their hobnail boots.
"Gee," whispered Art, "keep on the rugs all you can, or we'll dig holes in these hardwood floors."
"So these are Peanut and Art," said Mr. Goodwin, after introductions all around, turning to the pair who had given the alarm the night before. "I'm sorry to say, we can't have dinner till the sheriff has disposed of you two chaps. He's waiting in the library now with a stenographer."
