Before Mary Louise moved to the Higgledy Piggledy, Josie felt it to be prudent to go see her old friend, Captain Charley Lonsdale, the chief of police.

“It isn’t exactly my business, Chief,” she had said as she seated herself opposite the important man in his sanctum sanctorum. “That is, nobody has put the case in my hands, but, somehow, I feel that I must make it my business and I am sure you will think it is your business as well.”

“Well, I’m listening,” smiled the chief.

The chief usually listened when Josie had anything to say. He was an old-fashioned man who felt and freely stated that “woman’s place was in the home” and so forth and so on, but he had to confess that Josie had proved herself to be as able a detective as any he had even seen and perhaps an exception should be made in her favor and she should not be made to remain in a home, especially since she did not have one that could be rightly called by that name. It would take a blind reactionary, indeed, not to admit that Josie had managed the affair with the rascally Markles with a genius worthy of her father’s daughter.

Josie now took up the tale of the mysterious disappearance of Colonel Hathaway’s fortune. Captain Lonsdale had heard a rumor of there not being as large an inheritance for Mary Louise as her friends had hoped but the news of the absolute dissolution of the fortune was a blow to Colonel Hathaway’s old friend.

“It seems impossible!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t Peter Conant come to me with the matter himself?”

“He is leaving no stone unturned and perhaps he felt he would do all he could do first before he gave the case over to you. I have looked in every cranny in the house, and even in the garage, but can find no clue to anything.”

“What does your majesty think I had better do?” laughed the chief.

“First you must see that the house is watched. I am sure such a thing as this will get out sooner or later, perhaps is already known, and, in a short while, the treasure seeking will begin. I am anxious to get Mary Louise out of the house and tonight she will be safely moved to my quarters. She must not be made more nervous than she is already.”

“Poor child! Poor child!” murmured the chief. “I’ll see that the place is looked after. Don’t have the telephone taken out. My men may need it.”

“I’ll see to that, but I think it wisest not to let Mary Louise know that her home is in danger of marauders. She must rest in security for a while at least.”

“Good girl! Is there no certainty of how much Jim Hathaway put in those wild-cat gold mines? He spoke to me of a gold mine, but I know nothing of it.”

“None at all! There are no papers to be found relating to his investment and, unless the persons who were floating the stock are much more honest than we dare hope to find them, there is absolutely nothing to show that he has ever invested a cent in the crazy scheme. We don’t even know the name of the mines. He told Mary Louise about them but she can’t remember the name if she ever knew it.” “Poor old Jim! He was so astute and keen and to think of his coming such a cropper just at the end. What is your theory as to his behavior?”

“I haven’t any. My father used to say that there was no use in having theories about persons who were out of their senses. They never behaved as you expected them to and, as soon as you made sweeping assertions about what they were likely to do or say, they went back on you and did and said exactly the opposite. I certainly would never expect a man like Colonel Hathaway to go around hiding gold coin—”

“Gold coin! I thought it was papers that were mislaid.”

“Papers as well, but there is no telling how much gold he has put away somewhere. Mr. Peter Conant says he has gathered from various banks that Colonel Hathaway had been cashing securities for months and months and always demanding gold. He did it quietly and without ostentation and no one suspected him of being a bit off his head. Now, he must have put that gold somewhere and we can hardly think that all of it was invested in the mines that everyone fears were spurious. Mr. Conant is trying to locate the mines, but there seems to be no certainty at all concerning them. The Colonel talked about them quite freely but vaguely and Mary Louise says she never questioned him about them. She had an idea there were some men in Dorfield who were pushing them, but she never saw the men. Her grandfather would come home every few days quite jubilant over his wonderful and safe investments. Mary Louise knows nothing about business beyond being able to cash a check and keep her stubs written up so that things balance more or less at the end of the month. Her grandfather kept her well supplied with cash and put a goodly sum in the bank for her each month. She is going to learn though.”

She told the chief of her plan for Mary Louise to open a bonnet shop and he applauded the scheme.

“I don’t wear ’em myself but every female creature belonging to me is going to have a fling at that bonnet shop before so very long,” he boasted.

Josie smiled, knowing full well that the said female creatures would buy their bonnets where they chose regardless of the masculine verdict. True to his word, the chief put a guard over the old Hathaway home. Irene, from next door, noticed a man across the street who seemed quite interested in the big house and later on, when Aunt Hannah went to the kitchen to see that the back windows were securely fastened for the night, she spied a man in the alley, “snooping around” as she expressed it.

“It is nothing, mother,” shouted her husband. “We have nothing he could want and Irene tells me Mary Louise has sent all of her valuables to the bank for safe keeping.”

“We have a perfectly new garbage pail and an ash can without a break in it and, since the war, ash cans are most expensive,” grumbled Aunt Hannah. “A large one with a close fitting top costs several dollars.”

“Well, I can’t think the man in the alley is after our ash can but, if he is, he is welcome to it. I have been carrying burglar insurance for years and years and I must say I’d like to get back a little of my money.”

So Aunt Hannah was reassured and left the mysterious man in the alley to his possibly evil devices.

In the morning the ash can and garbage pail were safe and in their accustomed places, somewhat to Aunt Hannah’s disappointment.

“There is a bent place in the bottom of the ash can,” she confessed. “The ash men are so rough with one’s things. I’d be very glad if somebody would steal the old one and we could have a brand new seven dollar one. I am sure that bent place will soon come into a hole.”