"Bright boy, bright boy, that," responded Mr. Kemble. "Lives just out of Boston, does he? Must look him and his aunt up this fall, and see if I can't get my friend, Brooks, the broker, interested in him. Well, good-bye," and, hobbling away, quite briskly for him, Mr. Kemble followed a boy who carried his satchel down to the wharf, and was rowed out to the yacht. A voice from the cabin bade him welcome, and he disappeared down the companionway.

Early that evening, and shortly after Mr. Kemble had gone aboard the _Eagle_, for such was the name painted freshly in gilt on the yacht's stern, Miles Burton and the three boys, Bob, Henry Burns, and George, held a consultation in the shadow of the woods near the haunted house.

Mason, in the meantime, was hidden near the head of the rickety old stairs at the landing on the bluff, watching for any movement aboard the _Eagle_.

Miles Burton's commands were brief and explicit. "There is an old closet in the cellar," he said, "just about opposite where the box was buried.

Mason and I will hide there. We have oiled the hinges of the door so that it moves noiselessly. You boys better keep close here in the woods till you hear from us. Then you can make as much noise as you want to and come in at the capture. There ought not to be so very much excitement about it, for we shall have them before they know what's the matter."

It certainly seemed as though the detective could not be mistaken, but the sequel would show.

Mason remained at his post, and Miles Burton and the boys sat together in the shadow of the woods. It was wearisome waiting, and there was a chilliness in the night air which had crept into it with the east wind.

When eleven o'clock had come and the moon should have shone over the cape, a bank of clouds drifted up just ahead of it and half-obscured its light. As the moon arose these clouds drifted higher in the sky, still just preceding it, and the heavens grew but little brighter. Still it was not absolutely dark, for most of the stars were as yet unhidden.

Twelve o'clock came, and then one, and then a half-hour went by. At just half-past one o'clock by the detective's watch they saw the figure of Mason stealing swiftly up the path.

"It's time to make ready now," he said to Burton, as he joined the party.

"They'll be at the landing soon. As near as I can make out, there's Chambers and French, besides Craigie. It's the men we want all right.

Chambers is rowing, and he will probably stay in the boat while the other two come ash.o.r.e."

Then, bidding the boys to preserve the utmost silence, the two detectives left them, and a moment later the boys saw them disappear through the doorway of the haunted house.

There was little need of warning the boys to make no noise. From what the detectives had said, they knew that the men they had to deal with were desperate adventurers, who would not balk at any means to escape capture.

So they lay close in the underbrush and peered through the trees down toward the landing. The night was still, save for the rustling of a light wind through the trees. The breeze had held through, as Captain Sam had prophesied, though it had abated somewhat, ready, however, to increase with the next turn of the tide a few hours later.

They could hear noises across in the village: a solitary cart rattling along the country road, the tinkle of a distant cow-bell in a pasture, and here and there a dog barking. Presently the sound of oars grinding in the rowlocks came to their ears, and a few moments later the sound of a boat gently grating on the edge of the stone landing. There was as yet no sound of voices.

"Whew!" muttered Bob White. "This waiting here for something to happen gives me a creepy feeling. I only wish we knew that they weren't armed to the teeth and could only pitch in and run the risk of a good fight. I'd like to try a good football tackle, just to keep my nerves from going to pieces."

"I wouldn't care much to be waiting for them down in that cellar," said Henry Burns. "They're likely to prove ugly customers when they find themselves trapped,-but I'll risk Miles Burton to keep his head. He's the kind of man for this sort of thing-"

"Sh-h-h," interrupted George Warren, softly. "I hear their voices.

There's two of them, I think, talking. Yes, here they come. Lie low, now."

A head appeared at the top of the ladder, and then a man sprang up on to the brow of the bluff. It was the man whom they had known as Mr. Kemble, but whom they now knew as Craigie. He was followed by another man, somewhat taller than he.

The two came up the path together, talking earnestly. At a certain point in the path they paused, and Craigie stepped aside and found the spade where he had hidden it in the brush. Then they went on toward the haunted house. The boys' hearts beat fast and hard as the men pa.s.sed close by where they lay hidden. Surely two men who would lie in wait in the old house for these two must possess good nerve and courage. For the boys'

part, they were glad to be outside.

"Listen," whispered Henry Burns, softly; "the tall one is downright angry with our friend Kemble. He's pitching into him for something."

It was evident that Craigie's newly arrived friend was in a bad humour.

He spoke angrily, and no longer in a low tone, but gruff and loud enough to be heard some distance away.

"What a fool you must have been, Craigie," they heard him say, "to hide the jewels away in this tumble-down old place, when you could have hidden them well enough on your own person. It's all well enough to say they're safer here, but such an act might have attracted attention."

"It might," whispered Henry Burns.

"And here we are," continued the tall man, "fooling away our time in this outlandish hole, climbing ledges and stumbling through woods, when we ought to be out in the middle of the bay by this time, clear of this place. There was the wind, holding on through the night, just opportune for us, and all you needed to do was to step aboard, if you had been ready, and off we should have gone, without dropping a sail."

"Well, well, French," answered Craigie, impatiently, but trying to mollify his companion, "we've got time enough. Don't worry about that.

You would have blamed me bad enough if the jewels had been found on me.

Supposing I had had to tell you they'd been stolen, what would you have done? Would you have believed it, or would you say I had stolen them from you myself?"

"Believe it!" cried the other. "Why, you know I wouldn't believe it. I know you too well for that. What would I do? What would Ed Chambers do? I tell you what we would do. After that job,-after coming way down here for you,-why, man, we'd hunt you to the end of the earth, if you got away with those jewels, but we'd have you and the jewels, too."

With this angry utterance, the tall man laid a heavy hand on the other's shoulder.

"Nonsense, man," returned the other, impatiently, shaking off his grasp.

"What a way to talk about nothing. You're in a precious bad humour, seems to me. You know right well I wouldn't go back on you and Ed."

"I know nothing of the sort," snarled the other "I know you, I tell you.

I know you left us when things got hot, and took the jewels that we risked our necks for. Don't I know that we shouldn't have seen or heard of you again till we had hunted for you-which we would have done-if that man Mason hadn't got so close up on to you that you didn't dare try to get out of here alone."

"Well, have it so, have it so, then, since you are bound to quarrel,"

said Craigie, sullenly; and the boys heard no more. The two men pa.s.sed beyond hearing and entered the haunted house.

"I don't intend to miss this," whispered Henry Burns, for once thoroughly excited. "There's going to be the worst kind of trouble when that big black-looking fellow finds the box gone. Burton's going to let them dig for it-he told me so. Said he was curious to see what they would do."

"Rather he would have that sort of fun than I," said Bob. "It's a good deal like watching a keg of powder blow up. I say we'd better stay right here, as Burton advised, till we hear from them. We might upset the whole thing."

"I don't mind saying I'm scared clear down to my boots," said George, "but I'm going to see the thing through. I'll go if you will, Henry."

So the two left Bob in the woods, close by the path to the sh.o.r.e, and crept up on their hands and knees to that same cellar window through which they had before witnessed the hiding of the box.

By the light of a lantern placed on the cellar floor they saw the two men. Craigie had removed his coat, and was digging in the earth where he had hidden the box. He worked vigorously, throwing up spadefuls of the soil with quick, nervous jerks. His tall companion looked on with an expression of mingled anger and contempt on his face.

As the box failed to come to light after some minutes of hard work, the drops of perspiration stood out in great beads on Craigie's face, and he redoubled his efforts with the spade.

"It's down deeper than I thought I buried it," he muttered, with a sort of nervous laugh.

"You're a fool!" was all the other said.

"Have it so," said Craigie, and resumed his work.

The man was troubled, although he scarcely dared admit it, even to himself. He had already dug far deeper than he had before, and yet no signs of the box. The spade trembled slightly in his hands. He widened the hole and dug furiously.

"Going to dig over the whole cellar, I suppose," sneered the other, and clenched his fists nervously.

Craigie did not reply. Perhaps the truth was beginning to dawn on his mind, for he half-paused and cast a quick, anxious glance at his companion. His face was ghastly white in the dim lantern light. He continued his digging.

All at once he uttered a cry. The boys, staring in with faces close to the window-pane, saw the tall man leap forward and deal him a heavy blow.

"Do you think I am tricked by you?" he cried. "You know it isn't there.

You knew it all the time. But you don't fool me. You don't escape to enjoy it."

Craigie reeled under the blow and staggered back against the wall. If the other had followed up his advantage instantly, the fight must have been his; but one moment was enough for his companion. Still grasping the spade, he struck out with it as the man French rushed upon him again, and the other, receiving the full force of the blow, fell to the floor.

The next instant, without waiting to see whether his companion were dead or alive, Craigie shattered the lantern with a single blow and darted for the cellar stairs. At the same moment the detectives threw open the door and rushed out into the cellar. They were just too late. One man, indeed, lay unconscious at their feet, but the other had already reached the cellar stairs, and was at the outer door in a moment more.