As I say “Who’s there” a figure in the shadows jumps out. 

It doesn’t attack me, but in surprise I slip and land on my back.

“McSweeney…?” I overhear Bentley.

I look up and see the figure staring at the controls to the barrier keeping the Thievius Raccoonus in check. It’s inspecting it, then it goes for a baseball bat and begins whacking it, clearly trying to destroy it.

“Stop!” I regain myself and stomp over. Whoever it is notices, and is so much smaller than me. Whoever it is, they decide there’s no time and they can’t fight me and they zip out the open basement window, which must’ve been how they got in.

I overhear Murray running down. “Mr. McSweeney!” he yells. “What just happened?”

“Someone was just in here! They went out the window!”

“I’m on it!” I overhear Bentley from upstairs. Murray and I follow. 

We look around frantically for whoever just ran away, and I spot someone darting into the alley.

“Over there!”

Bentley activates the rockets on his wheelchair and begins to head up to the roofs to get a better vantage point. 

“Okay,” I overhear Bentley. “I think I see-”

Bentley stops. I see something slap him. Really hard. It’s like a big bloated fist. He falls off his wheelchair and they both go flying. Murray goes for the wheelchair and I go for Bentley. 

“You alright, little guy?” I ask.

Bentley pants, clutching his stomach and his expression, underneath his giant glasses, hints at relief and terror. “I think my body will soon enough accommodate.”

We head back to the safe house immediately and lock our doors and windows shut. And we’re pretty shook up.

“I’ll call Carmelita,” says Bentley. He goes to the phone charger. “There isn’t one here.”

“There’s one in the basement,” I say. We walk down together, and we smell burnt metal and hear sparks.

We arrive back down, to see the barrier to the Thievius Raccoonus die off.

The three of us are now cooped in the basement, agitated and nervous.

“Did you get a glimpse of the guy?” asks Bentley.

“I mean...He or she looked maybe a little bigger than you,” I volunteer to Bentley. “And was skinny enough to fit through the window.”

“Why would they be trying to steal the Thievius Raccoonus anyway?” asks Murray. “To learn some raccoon thief moves? Like the old Fiendish Five?”

“I don’t think so, Murray,” responds Bentley. He holds the book up in his hands, and sighs. “That device was to monitor the book’s activity. To catch if something changes. Until I can get it fixed, unless we can spot some new inconsistency in this big giant book by hand, we’re lost.”

“Great!” Murray moans. “We’re never gonna see Sly again!”

“Don’t be so sure, Murray.”

“Huh? Why? Can you fix it very fast?”

“Think about it. If someone deliberately broke the device monitoring the book, that must mean a hint could now be in this book, and at least someone else knows about it.”