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Up in the roomy loft which he and his step-brother, Anson, shared together, he lit the lamp. Anson was sleeping and Billy wondered just what he would say when he woke up in the morning and found his pants gone. Their mother had demanded that a pair of pants be thrown down to her. Billy needed his own so he had thrown down Anson's.,

"Is Maurice asleep?" whispered the woman.,

Hinter held out his hand. "Well, good night, Miss Erie," he said. "I'll be up again soon, with some books for you.",

Half an hour later he came out upon the lake shore. Quickly he scraped together a pile of drift wood. He applied a match to it and as fire leaped up stood frowning across the water. Then, as an answering light flashed from some distance out in the lake, he sighed in relief and seating himself on the sand lit his pipe. After a time the sound of oars fell on his ears. A boat scraped on the beach. Two men stepped from it and approached the fire.

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But here he found another little hope; some squalls of wet, one very heavy, had set the kennels running shortly after he had met Mr Greyquill, and if that letter had lain exposed to those three or four deluges, it not only stood to be changed into a mere rag to the eye which none would dream of even glancing at, but the writing must have been washed out to a degree to render the sense of the letter unintelligible. He considered that it was not above two or three hours when that letter was in his pocket, and that it must have fallen somewhere betwixt his father's house and the Minorca in that time, for he had taken the same road to and fro. He reflected that that road was but little used compared with the lane that led to the bridge where the Actons' carriage had stopped. Understanding as a sailor the preciousness of time, and conceiving that if the letter had by some strange mischance fallen during his walk unobserved by him it might still rest in the spot where it had dropped, insomuch that chance—for the fellow was a gambler at heart—might concede him yet an hour, even two hours, in which to find it, he put on his hat and marched out of[Pg 153] the house, just saying to his father in the window that he had an appointment and should miss it if he didn't hasten, and then stepped out, casting as he went to right and left of his path eyes as piercingly scrutinising as those which the madman darts when he seeks for the philosopher's stone.,

"Is Maurice asleep?" whispered the woman.,

He walked to a bed of flowers at which an under-gardener was at work, and said to the man: "Have you good eyes?",

Down through the night-enshrouded woods the boys made their way noiselessly, Billy leading, Walter Watland, nicknamed Fatty on account of his size, close behind him and Maurice Keeler, Billy's sworn chum and confidant, bringing up the rear. Occasionally a soft-winged owl fluttered up from its kill, with a muffled "who-who." Once a heavy object plunged from the trail with a snort, and the boys felt the flesh along their spines creeping. They kept on without so much as a word, crossing a swift creek on a fallen tree, holding to its bank and making a detour into the woods to avoid passing close to a dilapidated log cabin which in the moonlight bore evidence of having fallen into disuse. As they skirted the heavy thicket of pines, which even in the summer night's stillness sighed low and mournfully, the leader halted suddenly and a low exclamation fell from his lips.