iral had better send for his bricklayer, for more
reasons than one. There'll be a defective flue presently. Now, what
the devil is the duffer expecting to find?" Fitzgerald coolly turned
the light full into the other's face.

"It is beyond me," with equal coolness; "unless there's a pirate's
treasure behind there." The eyes blinked a little, which was but
natural.

"Pirate's treasure, you say?" Fitzgerald laughed. "That _would_ be a
joke, eh?"

"What now?" For Breitmann thought it best to leave the initiative with
his friend.

"A little run out to the stables," recalling to mind the rumor of the
night before.

"The stables?"

"Why, surely. The fellow never got in here without some local
assistance, and I am rather certain that this comes from the stables.
Besides, no one will be expecting us." He came down agilely.

Breitmann nodded approvingly at the ease with which the other made the
descent. "It would be wiser to leave the cellar by the window," he
suggested.

"My idea, too. We'll make a step out of this board. The stars are
bright enough." Fitzgerald climbed out first, and then gave a hand to
Breitmann.

"I understood there was a burglar alarm in the house."

"Yes; but this very window, being open, probably breaks the circuit.
All cleverly planned. But I'm crazy to learn what he is looking for.
Double your coat over your white shirt."

Breitmann was already proceeding with this task. A dog-trot brought
them into the roadway, but they kept to the grass. They were within a
yard of the stable doors when a hound began bellowing. Breitmann
smothered a laugh and Fitzgerald a curse.

"The quicker we get back to the cellar the better," was the former's
observation.

And they returned at a clip, scrambling into the cellar as quickly and
silently as they could, and made for the upper floors.

"Come into my room," said Fitzgerald; "it's only midnight."

Breitmann agreed. If he had any reluctance, he did not show it.
Fitzgerald produced cigars.

"Do my clothes look anything like yours?" asked Breitmann dryly,
striking a match.

"Possibly."

They looked themselves over for any real damage. There were no rents,
but there were cobwebs on the wool and streaks of coal dust on the
linen.

"We shall have to send our clothes to the village tailor. The
admiral's valet might think it odd."

"Where do you suppose he comes from?"

"I don't care where. What's he after, to take all this troub