e forth from the forest
under the stars, and stood on the edge of a wide round clearing, grown
high with grass and weeds. In the midst of this clearing rose a tower.

"High Dudgeon," said Ketch over his shoulder.

This also was a round tower, built of stone; but it was very tall, much
taller than the highest trees, and from the top there must have been a
view of all the surrounding country, even as far as the hill within
which was the treasure cave; from the number of deep and narrow slits
which served as windows it must have been six or seven stories high. The
top of the tower was flat, with battlements around the rim. As a
fortress, it seemed to be impregnable; as a dwelling-house, it was very
dismal indeed. It was totally dark. The captives trembled at the thought
of being imprisoned in such a place.

The wayfarers proceeded in their single file directly to the great
iron-bound oaken door of the tower, and those who were mounted got down.
Ketch assisted Aunt Amanda and Freddie to alight, and having done so he
took charge of the mules and led them away.

Captain Lingo took from his breeches pocket a small key and unlocked the
door.

"Be so kind as to enter," he said, and made way for the captives and his
men.

When all were within, including Ketch, who had now returned, the captain
locked the door on the inside and restored the key to his pocket.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SOCIETY FOR PIRATICAL RESEARCH

They were in a dark and narrow passage-way. As they stood huddled there
together, a candle glimmered at the end of the passage, held in a
tremulous hand, and lighting up the face of a very old woman. She
advanced towards the party by the door, and holding her candle high
above her head inspected the strangers with little blinking watery eyes.
She was short and bent; she hobbled as she came forward; her face was
seamed with deep wrinkles, and the hand which held the candle was
knotted and gnarled; wisps of dirty grey hair hung over her eyes.

"Aha! Mother Ketch," said Captain Lingo. "I wager thou didst not expect
us so soon. What's in the larder? We are famished."

Old Mother Ketch looked at her son, the Practitioner, and nodded her
head at him once or twice, blinking her eyes. Then she fixed her eyes on
Aunt Amanda, and seemed to forget everybody else.

"Well? well?" said Captain Lingo, impatiently. "Art going to keep us
here all night? Come, woman! Speak up directly! What's for supper, eh?"

Mother K