A Prowler of the Night

Down we plunged into the cellar, through the trap
and to the Door of Bewilderment.

"Don't expect too much," admonished Larry; "I
can't promise you a single Spanish coin."

"Perish the ambition! We have blocked Pickering's
game, and nothing else matters," I said.

We crawled through the hole in the wall and lighted
candles. The room was about seven feet square. At
the farther end was an oblong wooden door, close to the
ceiling, and Larry tugged at the fastening until it came
down, bringing with it a mass of snow and leaves.

"Gentlemen," he said, "we are at the edge of the
ravine. Do you see the blue sky? And yonder, if you
will twist your necks a bit, is the boat-house."

"Well, let the scenic effects go and show us where
you found those papers," I urged.

"Speaking of mysteries, that is where I throw up my
hands, lads. It's quickly told. Here is a table, and here
is a tin despatch box, which lies just where I found it.
It was closed and the key was in the lock. I took out
that packet-it wasn't even sealed-saw the character
of the contents, and couldn't resist the temptation to
try the effect of an announcement of its discovery on
your friend Pickering. Now that is nearly all. I found
this piece of paper under the tape with which the envelope
was tied, and I don't hesitate to say that when
I read it I laughed until I thought I should shake
down the cellar. Read it, John Glenarm!"