which certainly bore a fanciful resemblance to a “begging” terrier.
“Well,” said Tommy, refusing to share Julius’s emotion, “it’s what we
expected to see, isn’t it?”
Julius looked at him sadly and shook his head.
“British phlegm! Sure we expected it–but it kind of rattles me, all the
same, to see it sitting there just where we expected to find it!”
Tommy, whose calm was, perhaps, more assumed than natural, moved his feet
impatiently.
“Push on. What about the hole?”
They scanned the cliff-side narrowly. Tommy heard himself saying
idiotically:
“The gorse won’t be there after all these years.”
And Julius replied solemnly:
“I guess you’re right.”
Tommy suddenly pointed with a shaking hand.
“What about that crevice there?”
Julius replied in an awestricken voice:
“That’s it–for sure.”
They looked at each other.
“When I was in France,” said Tommy reminiscently, “whenever my batman
failed to call me, he always said that he had come over queer. I never believed
it. But whether he felt it or not, there IS such a sensation. I’ve got it now!
Badly!”
He looked at the rock with a kind of agonized passion.
“Damn it!” he cried. “It’s impossible! Five years! Think of it!
Bird’s-nesting boys, picnic parties, thousands of people passing! It can’t be
there! It’s a hundred to one against its being there! It’s against all reason!”
Indeed, he felt it to be impossible–more, perhaps, because he could not
believe in his own success where so many others had failed. The thing was too
easy, therefore it could not be. The hole would be empty.
Julius looked at him with a widening smile.
“I guess you’re rattled now all right,” he drawled with some enjoyment.
“Well, here goes!” He thrust his hand into the crevice, and made a slight
grimace. “It’s a tight fit. Jane’s hand must be a few sizes smaller than mine.
I don’t feel anything–no–say, what’s this? Gee whiz!” And with a flourish he
waved aloft a small discoloured packet. “It’s the goods all right. Sewn up in
oilskin. Hold it while I get my penknife.”
The unbelievable had happened. Tommy held the precious packet tenderly
between his hands. They had succeeded!
“It’s queer,” he murmured idly, “you’d think the stitches would have
rotted. They look just as good as new.”
They cut them carefully and ripped away the oilskin. Inside was a small
folded sheet of paper. With trembling fingers they unfolded it. The sheet was
blank! They stared at each other, puzzled.
“A dummy?” hazarded Julius. “Was Danvers just a decoy?”
Tommy shook his head. That solution did not satisfy him. Suddenly his face
cleared.
“I’ve got it! SYMPATHETIC INK!”
“You think so?”
“Worth trying anyhow. Heat usually does the trick. Get some sticks. We’ll
make a fire.”
In a few minutes the little fire of twigs and leaves was blazing merrily.
Tommy held the sheet of paper near the glow. The paper curled a little with the
heat. Nothing more.
Suddenly Julius grasped his arm, and pointed to where characters were
appearing in a faint brown colour.
“Gee whiz! You’ve got it! Say, that idea of yours was great. It never
occurred to me.”
Tommy held the paper in position some minutes longer until he judged the
heat had done its work. Then he withdrew it. A moment later he uttered a cry.
Across the sheet in neat brown printing ran the words: WITH THE COMPLIMENTS
OF MR. BROWN.
CHAPTER XXI
TOMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY
FOR a moment or two they stood staring at each other stupidly, dazed with
the shock. Somehow, inexplicably, Mr. Brown had forestalled them. Tommy
accepted defeat quietly. Not so Julius.
“How in tarnation did he get ahead of us? That’s what beats me!” he ended
up.
Tommy shook his head, and said dully:
“It accounts for the stitches being new. We might have guessed….”
“Never mind the darned stitches. How did he get ahead of us? We hustled
all we knew. It’s downright impossible for anyone to get here quicker than we
did. And, anyway, how did he know? Do you reckon there was a dictaphone in
Jane’s room? I guess there must have been.”
But Tommy’s common sense pointed out objections.