He gazed thoughtfully at the back, where there were a number of turn screws and keys for winding and setting it, and uttered an exclamation.
"Fellows!" he cried, "our clock has been taken apart and put together again. See, the back is scratched where some one has used a knife or screwdriver on it, and smell the oil they've put on it."
He held it first to the nose of Sid, and then to Phil. After several detecting whiffs, they both gave it as their opinion that the clock had been given an oil bath.
"This gets me!" exclaimed Phil. "Why in the name of the seven sacred somnambulistic salamanders, anyone should go to the trouble of making a false key to our room, take our clock away, renovate it, and then bring it back I can't see for the life of me."
"Same here," came from Sid, as he slumped down on the sofa. "But we've got it back, anyhow, and isn't there a proverb to the effect that you shouldn't look a beggar in the mouth?"
"You're thinking of gift-horses," declared Tom, "but what you mean is, 'take the gifts the gods provide.' Still, it is mighty queer, and I wish we could get some clews that would help unravel the mystery—that of our chair as well as the clock."
Sid uncurled long enough to reach out and get
