The battle was a short one. The vigorous fire of the Porter soon convinced those on board the smugglers’ ship that resistance or attempt at flight would be futile.

The signal of surrender was soon given, and the roar of the cannon ceased.

A United States officer, with a portion of the crew of the Porter, boarded the captured vessel and took formal possession.

Then the wounded and dead were attended to. Two of the smugglers had been killed and five or six injured. The injuries seemed to be slight, with the exception of those of one man, who was found lying on his face insensible.

It was Snags.

The discovery was made by Leonard and Mr.Stark, who had been transferred from the Porter to the captured vessel. They immediately caused him to be carried into a state-room, where they followed, accompanied by a surgeon. All others then withdrew, leaving the four men together.

“How badly is he injured?” asked Mr.Stark of the surgeon, who was examining Snags’ wounds.

“Very badly,” replied the surgeon. “He will not live more than a few hours.”

“Will he recover consciousness before he dies? It is important that we hold some conversation with him if such a thing is possible.”

“I think he will be conscious for a short time. Yes, he is struggling now. His chest heaves—his eyes open.”

And the surgeon administered a stimulant to Snags.

The latter looked around with a wild, vacant stare.

“Who are you all?” he asked. “Where is Roake? Where is the captain? Where—let me see—oh, yes, Iremember—we were attacked, and must have been beaten. For you are all strangers. Tell me about it, somebody!”

“Your ship and the whole crew have been captured by the United States revenue-cutter Porter,” said Mr.Stark. “Iam sorry you are so badly hurt, Snags, and Iwant to have a little talk with you before—before it is too late.”

“Before it is too late! What do you mean?”

“Can you not guess? You are seriously wounded, and the surgeon says——”

“That I must die? Don’t tell me that! Iwon’t die! Ican’t die! Iam not ready for that.”

He raised himself up on his elbow, and spoke in a tone of alarm and anguish.

“Ready or not, Snags, it may be inevitable.”

“No, no! I have too many sins to answer for.”

“Ay,” said Mr.Stark, “and now is the time for you to make what reparation lies in your power. Would you hesitate, in your last moments, to do this?”

“No. Tell me what it is. What can Ido? Oh, there is one awful thing that weighs on my mind!”

Mr.Stark whispered to Leonard to remove his disguise. Leonard obeyed, tearing off his spectacles, his wig, and his gray side-whiskers. He stood by the side of Snags.

The latter regarded him with a look of amazement and horror.

“Where did you come from? Did you rise from the dead?”

“No,” replied Leonard, “I am solid flesh and bones. Feel my hand. Iwas your prisoner once, but now the table are turned. Since my escape from the cave at Rocky Beach Ihave had but one great purpose. You can imagine what it is.”

“Yes,” sighed Snags.

“You well know that it is the vindication of my Cousin Carlos from the charge of murder. You also know—do you not?—that you have nothing to gain by longer keeping the secret, the revelation of which would demonstrate his innocence.”

Snags made no reply, but lay for some moments in profound thought. At length he spoke, quite calmly.

“Who are you?” he said to Mr.Stark.

“I am a detective, engaged in the custom-house service of the United States.”

“And is it true,” turning to the surgeon, “that Ihave not long to live?”

“I am sorry to say, my man, that there is but little hope for you.”

There was another pause.

“I’ll confess,” Snags finally said. “Carlos Conrad shall not suffer from any silence of mine. Ithink Iam growing weaker, and I’ll begin at once. Do you think it will improve my chances in the next world to do what Ican now toward making things right?”

“Every good act has its weight with the Great Judge of us all,” said Mr.Stark.

“Will you take down what I say?”

Leonard prepared himself, with pen, ink, and paper, to make a memorandum of Snags’ statements. Then the dying man began:

“You probably don’t need to be told much about the smuggling business. You have caught us, and will find enough to satisfy you at Rocky Beach. Roake and Ihad charge of the place, and took care of the goods as they came in. We always selected dark nights, and one night expected an arrival, when our ‘Boss’ sent me on an errand that has brought about all this ill luck. It was last August. According to directions, Iwent to the house of Colonel Conrad, to make discoveries.

“I was to steal into his room, pry open his desk, and see if Icould find any papers or documents that told of a quarrel with his brother, and to take particular notice if there was anything like a will—in which case Iwas to carry it off with me. Iwas to make these visits every night, until Ihad accomplished something, for the ‘Boss’ wanted to know, for some reason, all about Colonel Conrad’s plans and purposes.

“On the very first night Ifound the colonel writing. Istole in softly, to look over his shoulder. He turned and saw me, and Iwas taken off my guard. Idrew my knife and struck at him. There was but one thrust, and it did the work—it killed him. But, before God, murder was not in the plan. My errand was just what Ihave stated it to be. The killing was accidental, as one might say, but let it be understood that Idid it—that Carlos Conrad is innocent.”

The voice of Snags had been gradually growing weaker, and here he stopped, gasping for breath. The physician gave him a few drops of brandy, and he resumed:

“I grabbed a pile of gold coin—about a thousand dollars——”

“Only a thousand dollars?” interrupted Leonard.

“That was all. I took the money, and also snatched a letter from his hand that he had just been writing. But it tore, leaving a portion of it in his grip. Just then Carlos Conrad came, seeming to think that something wrong was going on. He jumped in at the window, and Isaw him take the fragment of the letter from the old man’s hand. Meanwhile Ihad read the part in my possession, and wanted the rest of it. Young Conrad and Ihad a tussle over the matter, and finally he slipped from me and ran. He outwitted me, for when Igave chase and supposed Ihad caught him, Ifound it was you”—pointing to Leonard—“instead. You know what followed. You were a prisoner in the cave, and before Ifairly discovered that you were the wrong man, Ilet out enough to make you know that Iwas the murderer. Then you escaped. It was a night when we were running in goods. You will remember it was moonlight; and the goods were some we had intended to get in on the night of the murder, when it was dark and rainy, but the work was interrupted by my arrival with my prisoner, and had been postponed. It was contrary to our usual caution to work on a moonlight night, but the ship that brought the goods from Europe was ready and impatient to sail, as it wouldn’t do for her to be seen hanging about the coast too long. After you escaped Iwas afraid to remain at Rocky Beach any longer, and on that very night joined this ship.”

Snags paused again from weakness.

Waiting until the administrations of the surgeon revived him, Leonard said:

“But there are two unsettled points. First, we want to know who the man is whom you have designated as ‘Boss,’ and next we want the letter that Colonel Conrad wrote.

“The ‘boss?’ Well, for a long time Ididn’t know him myself. He came to Rocky Beach but seldom, and then in disguise. Most of the orders were given through Roake. He knew him. But Igot the secret out of him. His name is Haywood. His home is in Dalton.”

“Very well,” said Mr.Stark; “and now about the letter.”

“Haywood has it.”

“Can you repeat its contents?”

But a pallor suddenly overspread Snags’ face. He looked around in piteous entreaty, as if it were in the power of those about him to restore his quickening breath. He gasped, clutched the air with his hands, and finally seemed to recover himself in a measure. He spoke with an effort:

“The letter told of a change of plans, of strange revelations, of important papers, and a new will. It spoke of money. It told—where—to look.” The voice grew fainter and fainter. “Of a secret recess—hidden spring—money—will——”

The words came now in hoarse whispers. The dying man struggled in agony. He made one more effort.

“The money and the will—in the wall—press—somewhere—a hidden——”

A convulsive tremor shook his frame, and his voice ceased altogether.

With solemn countenances and bowed heads, Leonard, Mr.Stark, and the surgeon stood by, and waited for the end.

It came soon. In two minutes more the spirit and the body had parted, and a form lay before them in the cold pallor of death.

Before leaving the apartment, Leonard, Mr.Stark, and the surgeon appended their signatures as witnesses to the statement of Snags, attesting that it was a true and faithful transcription of the words uttered by him.

Then the body was carefully secured in place, and covered, the room was vacated and locked, and the three who had been present at the solemn scene stepped on the deck in the open air.

The return journey to Boston was tedious, for the smugglers’ ship had been so disabled in the conflict as to necessitate its being towed by the Porter. Consequently the progress made was slow.

Near daybreak, the surgeon, who had separated from Leonard and Mr.Stark, came to them, and said:

“There is a sick man below, who does not seem to be one of the smugglers. Ihaven’t asked him any questions yet, but his appearance indicates that he is a prisoner, rather than one of the gang. Will you come and see him?”

Leonard and the detective followed the surgeon, and, as they entered the dimly lighted apartment, heard the groans and ravings of one in the delirium of a high fever.

They stepped to the side of the sufferer. Leonard Lester gazed at the flushed face and tossing form but a mere instant, and then, bending forward eagerly, he ejaculated, in extreme amazement:

“Great Heaven! it is Carlos!”

“What!” exclaimed Mr.Stark. “Your cousin?”

“Yes, it is my cousin, Carlos Conrad. But how, in the name of all the powers, above and below, did he come here?”

“It is indeed a mystery,” said Mr.Stark. “And he is very ill.”

“Yes, he has a raging fever. Can you tell what is the matter with him, doctor?” turning to the surgeon.

“I can tell better when we arrive in Boston, and get him on a clean bed in a good room. Meanwhile, Iwill do what Ican for him here. But he is a sick man, there is no doubt about that.”

“You do not mean to say that he cannot live!” exclaimed Leonard.

“Oh, no. I guess it’s not as bad as that. But he will require good care. Iwill remain with him for awhile now, and, as there seems to be some mystery about his being here, perhaps you gentlemen would like to step around and investigate the matter.”

Mr.Stark and Leonard made inquiries of some of the captured crew, and soon learned the truth concerning Carlos’ unexpected appearance at Rocky Beach and his conveyance to the vessel. But a full explanation of the mystery—the story of his illness and mysterious disappearance from the hotel—could not be had until the arrival of the party at Dalton.

The sun had risen, and was well on its way to the zenith, when the revenue-cutter reached Boston, having in tow its prize and prisoners.

Carlos was immediately placed in suitable quarters, and a physician and a skilled nurse were employed to attend him.

Having thus left him in good hands, Leonard and Mr.Stark proceeded without delay to bring to a conclusion the business in hand.

Accompanied by a United States officer, and armed with the necessary warrants for arrest, they took the first train for Dalton.