"Where do you suppose he comes from?"

"I don't care where. What's he after, to take all this trouble?

Something big, I'll warrant."

And then, for a time, they smoked like Turks, in silence.

"By George, it's a good joke; you and I trying to choke each other, while the real burglar makes off."

"It has some droll sides."

"And you all but broke my arm."

Breitmann chuckled. "You were making the same move. I was quicker, that was all."

Another pause.

"The admiral has seen some odd corners. Think of seeing, at close range, the j.a.panese-Chinese naval fight!"

"He tells a story well."

"And the daughter is a thoroughbred."

"Yes," non-committally.

"By the way, I'm going to the Pole in June or August."

"The Italian expedition?"

"Yes."

"That ought to make fine copy. You will not mind if I turn in? A bit sleepy."

"Not at all. Shall we tell the admiral?"

"The first thing in the morning. Good night."

Fitzgerald finished his cigar, and went to bed also. "Interesting old place," wadding a pillow under his ear. "More interesting to-morrow."

Some time earlier, the individual who was the cause of this nocturnal exploit hurried down the hill, nursing a pair of skinned palms, and laughing gently to himself.

"Checkmate! I shall try the other way."

On the morrow, Fitzgerald recounted the adventure in a semi-humorous fashion, making a brisk melodrama out of it, to the quiet amus.e.m.e.nt of his small audience.

"I shall send for the mason this morning," said the admiral. "I've been dreaming of _The Black Cat_ and all sorts of horrible things. I hate like sixty to spoil the old chimney, but we can't have this going on. We'll have it down at once. A fire these days is only a nice touch to the mahogany."

"But you must tell him to put back every brick in its place," said Laura. "I could not bear to have anything happen to that chimney. All the same, I am glad the matter is going to be cleared up. It has been nerve-racking; and I have been all alone, waiting for I know not what."

"You haven't been afraid?" said Fitzgerald.

"I'm not sure that I haven't." She sighed.

"Nonsense!" cried the admiral.

"I am not afraid of anything I can see; but I do not like the dark; I do not like mysteries."

"You're the bravest girl I know, Laura," her father declared. "Now, Mr. Breitmann, if you don't mind."

"Shall we begin at once, sir?"

"You will copy some of my notes, to begin with. Any time you're in doubt over a word, speak to me. There will not be much outside of ma.n.u.script work. Most of my mail is sorted at my bankers, and only important letters forwarded. There may be a social note occasionally.

Do you read and write English as well as you speak it?"

"Oh, yes."

Laura invited Fitzgerald to the tennis court.

"In these shoes?" he protested.

"They will not matter; it is a cement court."

"But I shan't look the game. Tennis without flannels is like duck without apples."

"Bother! We'll play till the mason comes up. And mind your game.

I've been runner-up in a dozen tournaments."

And he soon found that she had not overrated her skill. She served strongly, volleyed beautifully, and darted across the court with a fleetness and a surety both delightful to observe. So interested were they in the battle that they forgot all about the mason, till the butler came out, and announced that the desecration had begun.

In fact the broad marble top was on the floor, and the room full of impalpable dust. The admiral and the secretary were gravely stacking the bricks, one by one, as they came out.

"Found anything?" asked the girl breathlessly.

"Not yet; but Mr. Donovan here has just discovered a hollow s.p.a.ce above the mantel line."

The admiral sneezed.

Mr. Donovan, in his usual free and happy way, drew out two bricks, and dropped them on the polished floor.

"There's your holler, sir," he said, dusting his hands.

Unbidden, Breitmann pushed his hand into the cavity. His arm went down to the elbow, and he was forced to stand on tiptoe. He was pale when he withdrew his arm, but in his hand was a square metal case, about the size and shape of a cigar box.

"By cracky! What's the matter, Mr. Breitmann?" The admiral stepped forward solicitously.

Breitmann swayed, and fell against the side of the fireplace. "It is nothing; lost my balance for a moment. Will you open it, sir?"

"Lost his balance?" muttered Fitzgerald. "He looks groggy. Why?"

This was not a time for speculation. All rushed after the admiral, who laid the case on his desk, and took out his keys. None of them would turn in the ancient lock. With an impatient gesture, which escaped the others, the secretary seized Mr. Donovan's hammer, inserted the claw between the lock and the catch, and gave a powerful wrench. The lid fell back, crooked and scarred.