So is the whole house, for that matter.
He--" "It was Rodney Hade!" she insisted, shuddering.

"I saw his face with the moonlight on it--" "And with a few unbecoming scratches on it, too, from the underbrush and from those porch vines," chimed in a suave voice from the top of the stairs.

"Milo, next time you bar your house, I suggest you don't forget and leave the cupola window open.

If it was easy for me to climb up there from the veranda roof, it would be just as easy for any of our friends out yonder." Down the stairs--slowly, nonchalantly,--lounged Rodney Hade.
His classic mask of a face was marred by one or two scratches and by a smudge of dirt.

But it was as calm and as eternally smiling as ever.