n't I most
blowed out o' my bed right in this grand house?"

The skipper realized that the room was colder than the middle apartment
of the cabin had any right to be. He went to the window and examined
it. The small frame was as tight in the wall as a dozen spikes and a
liberal daubing of tar could make it. It had never been opened since the
building of the house.

"The wind blows under Father McQueen's door like spray from the
land-wash," said the old woman.

"'Twill be comin' down the chimbly," said Dennis, aware of the tide of
icy wind low about his feet. He crossed the room and opened the door of
the dismal chamber reserved for the use of the missionary. The sash of
the window hung inward, the woodwork splintered and the spikes twisted,
admitting a roaring current of wind and powdery snow. With a cry of
consternation and rage the skipper sprang in, banged and bolted the door
behind him, and went straight to the rafter across the middle of the
ceiling. He removed the square of wood--and the hollow behind it was
empty! For a moment he stood with his empty hand in the empty
hiding-place, unable to move or think because of the terrific emotions
which surged through him. At last he went over to the chimney and
examined it. The bag of gold was in its place.

CHAPTER IV

DEAD MAN'S DIAMONDS

Now I must hark back a few hours to the time when the skipper and his
lieutenants were on their way to the barrens behind Nolan's Cove to
safeguard the interests of the harbor by changing the hiding-place of
the common treasure of jewelry. They had not been gone half an hour from
Chance Along before Foxey Jack Quinn slipped from his cabin and glided,
like a darker shadow in the darkness, to the skipper's house. He was not
ignorant of his enemy's departure southward. He knew that both young
Cormick and old Mother Nolan were heavy sleepers; and, earlier in the
evening, he had seen something through the window of the guest-chamber
that had aroused his curiosity and a passion of avarice.

Foxey Jack Quinn was warmly clothed. His rackets and a light pack were
on his back and his pockets were stuffed with food and a flask of rum.
He was armed with a hatchet. He crouched beside the window of the empty
room for several minutes, listening intently and fearfully. At last he
wedged the strong blade of his hatchet between the sash of the window
and the frame and prised inward, steadily and cautiously. With a shrill
protest of fros