osition was distasteful.

"You needn't feel any compunctions. Kit Woodford and that cub who calls
himself Graff Miller have handed out the double cross many a time, and
stand ready to do it again if it promises the slightest advantage to
them. They have run off in the hope of taking care of their own hides,
without caring the snap of a finger what became of you."

"There is no mistake about _that_, Mr. Calvert?"

"I wouldn't deceive you for an instant. Their own actions prove it. They
have done the same thing before, and to-day they did not give you a
thought, when danger threatened them."

"I shall do whatever you wish."

"Good! You may not know that, although I am a Pinkerton detective, I am
under promise to my lifelong friend to do all I can to save you from
yourself."

"Does father know I am in this business, Mr. Calvert?"

"He doesn't dream of such a thing. The shock would kill him. Therefore, I
shall strain every nerve to keep him from ever learning the truth. I have
a plan in mind, but before trying it you must answer a few questions."

"I am ready."

"In the first place, where do this gang with whom you have been
associated have their headquarters?"

"I can guide you to the exact spot."

"It is not that little patch of ground in the cove at the southern end of
Barter Island?"

"No; the character of the islet forbids. Miller ran the launch in there
one night when he thought some one was watching, to throw him off the
scent. Have you a pencil and bit of paper anywhere about you?"

Calvert produced the articles from an inner coat pocket and handed them
to Noxon. Placing the paper on the table in the middle of the room, he
spent several minutes in drawing a diagram. He was apt at the work and
did it with no little skill. By and by he handed paper and pencil to the
owner with the remark:

"That will answer your question."

"It is a production of art," said the detective admiringly. "No
professional artist could beat it."

Noxon had not only drawn a perfect representation of the neighborhood
which he had in mind, but lettered it so that no mistake was possible. It
pictured a part of the eastern shore of Westport Island, opposite Barter,
and only a short distance north of the inlet where the _Water Witch_ had
been visited some nights before. Noxon leaned forward and placed the tip
of his finger on the different points.

"Right there is one of a hundred similar coves among the waters of
southern Ma