Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-02-05
CHAPTER XXI. A ProWler of the Night.

through the trap and to the Door oi .Bewilderment.
 Don't expect too much." adnon. ished Larry; T can't promise you a single Spanish coin"
 Perish the ambition! We have blocked Pickering's game, and nothing Ielse matters" said.
 We crawled through the hole in the wall and lighted candles. The room was about seven feet square. At tn. farther end was an oblong wooden door. close to the ceiling. and Larry ltugged at the fastening until 1t came down, bringing with it a mass of snow land leaves.
 Gentlemen" he said. I've are at the edge of the ravine. Do you see the blue sky? And wonder. if you will twist your necks bit. is the boat house.
 Well. let the scenic effects go and show us where you found those pa. pers." urged.
 Speaking of mysteries, that is where throw up my hands. lads. It's Iquickly told. Here is table, and here is an old despatch box. which lies just where I found it. It was closed and the key was in the lock. I took out that packet-it wasn't even sealed Esaw the character of the contents. and couldn't resist the temptation to Itry the effect of an announcement of Its discovery on your friend Pickering Now that is nearly all. found this piece of paper under the tape with which the envelope was tied. and | don't hesitate to say that when I read lit I laughed until I thought should shake down the cellar. Read it, John lGlenarm!"
 He handed me fragment of legal cap paper on which was written in the lunmistakable handwriting of John Marshall Glenarm, these words: HE LAUGHS BEST WHO LAUGHS
 LAST.
 "What do you think is so funny in lthis?" I demanded.
 "Who wrote it, do you think" asked rStoddard.
 'Who wrote it. do you ask? Why Jacks grandfather wrote it! John Marshall Glenarm, the cleverest, grandest old man that ever lived, wrote it." acclaimed Larry, his voice boom ing loudly in the room. Its all al great big game. fixed up to try you and Pickering.-but principally you. you blockhead. Oh, it's grand, perfectly, deliciously grand,-and to think it should be my good luck to share in it."
 "Humph! I'm glad you're amused but it doesn't strike me as being SC awfully funny. Suppose those had fallen into Pickering's hands; then where would the joke have been. Il should like to know"
 "On you. my lad, to be sure! The old gentleman wanted you to study architecture; he wanted you to study his house: he even left little pointer in an old book. Oh, it's too good to be itrue,"
 That's all clear enough" observed Stoddard. knocking upon the despatch box with his knuckles. But why dc you suppose he dug this hole here with tits outlet on the ravine?"
 "Oh, it was the way of him!" ex planned Larry. He liked the idea of !queer corners and underground pas Isages. This is a bully hiding place for man or treasure, and that outlet into the ravine makes it possible to get out of the house with nobody the wiser. It's in keeping with the rest of his scheme. Be gay, comrades! To morrow will likely find us with plenty of business on hands. At present we hold the fort. and let us have a care Jest we lose it."
 We closed the ravine door, restored the wall as best we could. and re. turned to the library. We made list of the Pickering notes and spent an hour discussing this new feature of the situation and speculating as to the hiding place O. the remainder of my Erandfather's fortune. Larry and Stoddard both declared their intention of remaining until my troubles were ended in spite of my protests. Stod. dard stayed for dinner, and afterward I've began 2galn cur eternal quest for the treasure, our hopes high from LArry's lucky strike of the afternoon. and with a new eagerness born of the knowledge that the morrow would cer- 'tainly bring us face to face with the real crises. We ranged the house from tower to cellar: we overhauled the tunnel. for. it seemed to ne, the hun idredth time.
 It was my watch. and at midnight, after Stoddard and Larry had recon noitered the grounds and Bates and had made sure of all the interior fas- tenings. I sent them of to bed and made myself comfortable with a pipe in the library.
 was glad of the respite. glad to be alone.-to consider my talk with Ma rian Devereux at St. Agatha's. and her return with Pickering. Why could she not always have been Olivia. ranging the woodland. or the girl in gray. or that woman. so sweet in her dignity. who came down the stairs at the Arm strongs'7 Her own attitude toward me was so full of contradictions: she had appeared to me in so many moods and guises. that my spirit ranged the whole gamut of feeling as thought of her. But it was the recollection of PickeringIs infamous conduct that col ored all my doubts of her. Pickering