"Positively."

"Very well." The waiter bowed and strolled away nonchalantly.

Braine was in Boston over night, otherwise the countess would have taken the mysterious note at once to him. She remained for perhaps a quarter of an hour longer and then left the garden. She would have taken the letter to her own apartment but for the fact that the chemicals needed were hidden in the cave.

Now it happened that Florence went out for her early ride the next morning, and crossing a field she saw a man with a bundle under his arm. The sun struck his profile and limned it plainly, and Florence uttered a low cry. The man had not observed her. So, very quietly, she slipped from the horse, tethered it to a tree, and started after the man to learn what he was doing so far from the city. She would never forget that face. She had seen it that dreadful night when the note had lured her into the hands of her enemies. The face belonged to the man who had impersonated her father.

It occurred to her that she might just as well do a little detective work on her own hook. She had pa.s.sed through so many terrifying episodes that she was beginning to crave for the excitement, strange as this may seem. Like a gambler who has once played for high stakes, she no longer found pleasure in thimbles and needles and pins. She followed the man with no little skill and at length she saw him approach a knoll, stoop, apparently press a spring, and a hole suddenly yawned. The man vanished quickly, and the spot took on again its virginal appearance. A cave. Florence had the patience to wait. By and by the man appeared again and slunk away.

When she was sure that he was beyond range, she came out from the place of concealment, crept up the knoll, and searched about for the magic handle of this strange door. Diligence rewarded her, and she soon found herself in a large, musty, earth-smelling cave. Loot was scattered about, and there were boxes and chairs and a large chest.

Men evidently met here, possibly after some desperate adventure against society. She found nothing to reward her hardihood, and as she was in the act of moving toward the cave's door she beheld with terror that it was moving!

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLORENCE DISCOVERS THE CAVE]

She was near the chest at that moment. The cave was not a deep one.

There was no tunnel, only a wall. Resolutely she raised the lid of the chest, stepped inside, and drew the lid down. She was just in time.

The door opened and three men entered, talking volubly. They felt perfectly secure in talking as loudly as they pleased. To Florence it seemed almost impossible that they did not hear the thunder of her heart? Strain her ears as she might, she could gather but little of what they said, except:

"If Hargreave had this paper we might all be put on the defensive. To an outsider it is a blank paper. But the boss will be able to read it...." The speaker moved away from the vicinity of the chest and she heard no more.

Very deftly Florence raised the lid just enough to peep out. The man who had been talking was putting the note in his hip pocket. As he turned toward the chest he sat down on the soap-box immediately in front of the chest. An inspiration came to the girl, an exceedingly daring one. She took her liberty in her hands as she executed the deed. But the dimness of the cave aided her. When she crouched down again the magic paper was hers.

It seemed hours to her before the men left the cave. As she heard the hidden door jar in closing she raised the lid and stepped out, breathing deeply. The paper she had purloined was indeed blank, but Jones or Jim would know what to do with it. And wouldn't they be surprised when she told them what she had accomplished all alone? Her exultation was of short duration. She heard the whine of the door on its hinges. The men were returning. Why?

They were returning because they had discovered a woman's shoeprint outside. It pointed toward the cave, freshly, and there was none coming away. To re-enter the chest would be foolhardy. It would be the first place the men would look. She glanced about desperately.

She saw but one chance, the well. And even while the door was swinging inward, letting the brilliant sunshine enter, she summoned up the courage and let herself down into the well, which proved to be nothing more nor less than an underground river!

The men came in with a rush. They upset boxes, looked into the chest, and the man who was evidently in command, gazed down the well, shaking his head. Their search was thorough, but they found no one. And at length they began to reason that perhaps a woman had got as far as the door and then turned away, walking on the turf.

Meantime Florence was borne along by the swift current of the river, which gained in swiftness every moment. From time to time she b.u.mped along the rocky walls, but she clung to life valiantly. In ten minutes she was swept to the other side of the hill, into the rapids; but the blue sky was overhead, she was out in the familiar world again. On, on she was carried. Even though she was half dead, she could hear the roar of a falls somewhere in advance.

Braine thought he really had a clue to the treasure, and with his usual promptness he set about to learn if it was worth anything. He procured a launch and began to prowl about, using a pole as a feeler. All the while he was being closely watched by Norton, who had concluded to hang on to Braine's trail till he found something worthy of note. Braine was disguised, but this time Jim was not to be fooled. But what was he looking for, wondered the reporter? Braine continued to pole along, sometimes pausing to look over the gunwale down into the water. In raising his head after the last investigation, he discerned something struggling in the water, about three hundred yards away. The current leisurely brought the object into full view. It was a young woman with just power enough to keep herself afloat. The golden head roused something in him stronger than curiosity. It might be!

Braine proceeded to move the launch in the direction of the girl. It was this movement that turned the reporter's gaze. He, too, now saw the woman in the water and wondered how she had come there. When Braine reached the girl and pulled her into the launch Jim saw her face plainly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FLORENCE STEALS THE PAPERS FROM BRAINE'S POCKET]

He flew from his vantage point, found a skiff and started after Braine.

"By the Lord Harry!" murmured the rogue. "Well, they can talk of manna from heaven, but this is what I call luck. Florence Hargreave, out of nowhere, into my arms! The G.o.d of luck has cast another horseshoe and it's mine."

He had a flask in his pocket, and he forced some of the biting spirits down the girl's throat. She opened her eyes.

"Well, my beauty?"

Florence eyed him wildly, not quite understanding where he had come from.

"I don't know how you got here," he said, "and I don't care. But here we are together at last. Where is your father?"

"I--I don't know," dazedly.

"Better think quickly," he warned; "I want lucid answers to my questions or back you go into the water. I'm about at the end of my rope. I've been beaten too many times, my girl, to have any particular love for you. Now, where is your father?"

"I don't know; I have never seen him."

Braine laughed.

And Jim's boat ran afoul some rocks and into the water he went. He had not attracted Braine's attention, fortunately. He began to swim toward the drifting launch.

"Where have they hidden that money?"

"I don't know."

"Well, well; I've given you your chance. You'll have to try your luck with the water again."

Florence, weak as she was, set her lips.

"You don't ask for mercy?" he said banteringly.

"I should be wasting my breath to ask for mercy from such a monster as you are," she answered quickly.

"That d.a.m.ned Hargreave nerve!" he snarled.

He rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward her. She braced herself but did not turn her eyes from his. Suddenly, from nowhere at all, came a pair of hands. One clutched the gunwale and the other laid hold of Braine. A quick pull followed, and Braine began to topple. But even as he fell he managed to fling himself atop his a.s.sailant; and it was only when the struggle began in the water that he recognized the reporter. All the devil in him came to the surface and he fought with the fierceness of a tiger to kill, kill, kill. In nearly every instance this meddling reporter had checkmated him. This time one or the other of them should stay in the water.

Norton recognized that he had a large order before him to disable Braine. The recognition between them was now frank and absolute; there could never again be any diplomatic sidestepping.

"You're a dead man, Norton!" panted Braine, as he reached for the reporter's throat.

Norton said nothing, but struck the hand aside. For a moment they both went under. They came up sputtering, each trying for a hold. It was a terribly enervating struggle.

Florence could do nothing. The boat in which she sat continued to drift away from the fighting men. Once she tried to reach Braine with the pole he had been using, but failed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BRAINE PROCURED A LAUNCH AND BEGAN TO PROWL ABOUT]

From the sh.o.r.e came another boat. For a while she could not tell whether it contained friends or enemies. It was terrible to be forced to wait, absolutely helpless. When she heard the newcomers call encouragingly to Braine she knew then that the brave fight of her sweetheart was going to come to naught. She knew a little about motors. She threw on the power and headed straight toward the rowboat.

The men shouted at her, but she did not alter her course. The rowboat had its sides crushed in and the men went piling into the water.

"Jim," she cried.

Norton suddenly flung off Braine and began to swim madly for the motor boat, which Florence had brought about. Even then it was only by the barest luck in the world that Norton managed to catch the gunwale. The rest of it was simple. When they finally reached a haven, Florence, oddly enough, thought of the horse she had left tethered nine miles from the stables. She laughed hysterically.

"I guess he won't die. We can send some one out for him. Now, for heaven's sake, how did you get into this? Where were you? What have you been up to?" with tender bruskness.

"I wanted to do a little detective work of my own," she faltered.

"It looks as if you had done it. You infant! Will you never learn to keep outside this muddle? It's a man's work."