the grasp of his right hand
a very businesslike-looking revolver.

Cleek thought for a moment, then plunged bravely in.

"Come up from the passage, sir," he responded curtly. "Loadin' up
ternight, and some fool locked t'other end before me and my mate 'ere 'ad
finished our work. 'Ad to come along this w'y, or else spend the rest of
the night dahn there, and we're due for loadin' the stuff at the docks at
midnight. Master'll be devilish mad if 'e finds us missin'."

It was a chance shot, but somehow chance often favours the brave. It
told. The man lowered his revolver, gave them a quick glance from head to
toe, and then swung upon his heel.

"Well, better clear out while there's no danger," he returned sharply.
"Two other men are on the watch-out for strangers. Take that short cut
there"--he pointed to the left--"and skirt round to the road. Quarter of
a mile'll bring you. Chaps at your end ought to see to it that none of
the special hands stray up this way. It's not safe. Good-night."

"Good-night," responded Cleek cheerily. "Thank you, sir;" and, taking
Dollops's arm, swung off in the direction indicated, just as quick as his
feet could carry him.

They walked in silence for a time, their feet making no sound in the
marshy ground, when they were well out of earshot--Cleek spoke in a low
tone.

"Narrow shave, Dollops!"

"It was that, sir. I could fair feel the razor aclippin' a bit off me
chin, so ter speak. 'Avin' some nice adventures this night, ain't we,
guv'nor?"

"We certainly are." Cleek's voice was absent-minded, for his thoughts
were working, and already he was beginning to tie the broken threads of
the skein that he had gathered into a rough cord, with here and there a
gap that must--and should--be filled. It was strange enough, in all
conscience. Here were these underground tunnels leading, "if you kept to
the right," from a field out Saltfleet way, to the very heart of the Fens
themselves. And what went on here in these uninhabited reaches of the
marshland? Nothing that could be seen by daylight, for he had traversed
every step of them, and gained no information for his pains. Therefore
there could be no machinery, or anything of that sort. H'm. It was a bit
of a facer, true; but of one thing he was certain. Somehow, in some way,
the Frozen Flames played their part. That factory at Saltfleet and the
fishing boats and the Fens were all linked up in one inexplicable chain,
if one could only find the