hase. That's what I wanted to make sure of."

"Then all we have to do is to get the rest of the evidence, and the
property is ours."

"Yes. We can turn the widow and the daughter out, all right, if we get
the necessary papers. Then we can go ahead and build the dam across
the brook."

"That's going to arouse a lot of opposition!" exclaimed the third
member of the trio. "It will spoil the park."

"Well, we can't help it. We need the dam for power for our factory,
and the people don't really need the park. We'll do it."

"You mean we'll make Shane do it!" exclaimed the young man who had
raced with Cora.

CHAPTER XX

THE NIGHT PLOT

The girls looked at one another with startled glances. Cora bent
forward eagerly in order to better hear what else was said. She had no
compunctions as to eavesdropping, feeling that it was justified under
the circumstances.

"They must mean Denny Shane, the old fisherman," whispered Bess.

"Hush!" cautioned Cora. Not only did she want to listen, but she was
fearful lest the men on the other side of the hedge discover the
presence of herself and her chums.

"Yes," resumed the speaker, "we must make old Shane do it. Once we get
him in the proper frame of mind he'll testify just as we want him to.
And we need some testimony to offset that of the widow and her girl.
Otherwise we'll never get the property without a long delay."

"But how can we get Shane in the proper frame of mind to testify as we
want him to?" asked another of the trio.

"Leave that to me," answered the one who had been in the fast motor
boat. And Cora started as she noted the difference in his tone now. It
was hard and cruel, while, in speaking to her, his accents had been
those of a cultured gentleman, used to polite society. There was a
metallic ring to his voice now that boded no good to Denny Shane.

"Yes, I guess we'll leave it to you, Bruce," said a voice, "though
maybe Kelly could put it over him with a bit of blarney. You know
Shane is Irish."

"Hush! No names, and not so loud!" cautioned the one who had been
addressed as Bruce.

"Who'd be listening?" asked the other.

"You never can tell, Moran," was the retort.

"There you go!" exclaimed Bruce, fretfully, and the girls knew it must
have been the one called Kelly who spoke that time.

There was a movement on the other side of the bush, and Cora, with a
sudden motion, crouched down, signalling the others to do the same. It
was only just