And so it came about that Dollops and Cleek, both wearing dark suits (procured in Cleek's case at the Three Fishers, and from his own dressing-bag), and with caps pulled down over their faces and false moustaches decorating their upper lips as a protection against unforeseen discovery, made their way out in the clear moonlight toward that "gravel pit" of which Dollops had spoken, and padded soft-footedly down the hill toward the little "shanty" to which Dollops guided them, and after a quick glance at it, pushed on into the darkness of the night; down, down, down into the valley—to the thing that lay there revealed in the moon's rays, and which in the face of the to-morrow's sun would have vanished like the picture upon an exposed camera film.

But to-night—to-night they could see the whole panorama of it, lying close to the earth, concealed behind a huge furze-bush upon the hillside, stomachs flat against the face of it, eyes sharpened upon that identical spot which told so much to them of what they sought. Perhaps a dozen men worked there—perhaps more—coats off, shirt-sleeves rolled up—big, bonny men of brawn and muscle, come of a stock as tough as the granite of the hillside itself and hardened by the keen winds and the keener air of the Highlands that had given them birth.

"Giants!" whispered Dollops awe-inspiringly, his lips close against Cleek's ear.

"Thieves!" responded Cleek, with a quick intake of the breath. "Gad! they're a lot, Dollops! And if they caught us up here, hidden away, our chances would be exactly nil. Where's your friend Balmy, eh?"

"Dahn there—under that big flare, sir—'im wiv the blue shirt and the red neck-cloth. Likely lookin' blighter, ain't 'e?"

"H'm. Not very. Not a sound, boy! There's a couple of 'em coming this way. Got it in barrels, have they? Gad! I'd like to have a look at one of those homely articles. I'll swear there's a false bottom to it, if I know anything of this kind of trickery.... Hello!—there's Tweed Coat!"

"Tweed Coat," thus named, passed a stone's throw in front of them, his arm linked with another man's, his head downbent. But Cleek had seen the moonlight upon his face, and knew his man at last. Ross Duggan had worn that coat this morning, or one so like it that even he, hawk-eyed detective that he was, could have told no difference between them. The moonlight struck upon the white bosom of his evening-dress shirt, making it shine like a strip of ivory, and at something which his companion said to him, he caught it close together, and turned the collar of the jacket up about his throat.

First the handkerchief so plainly marked "R.D." and now this! But that such a man should be mixed up in a thing of this sort, an illicit thing which was against all laws and regulations of the land that had borne him, made Cleek's mouth go grim. The handkerchief, the coat; and now—the man. That little chain was completed, and every link welded together. At least some part of the mystery was clear at last.

The pair passed close against them where they lay in the darkness, so close that Cleek's fingers might have reached out and caught at the other's trouser-leg and tripped him. But the time was not yet ripe for arrests. Better let the thing go unsuspected until to-morrow afternoon, and then, when the Coroner's Inquest was at hand, rally them all together in the library once more, and make the final settlement.

Here was only a part of the thing, not the whole thing itself, and if he knew one of his men, he did not yet feel certain of the other. The night should bring that uncertainty into clarity if possible.

The darkness hid the couple from view at length, and when their footsteps had died away into silence, Cleek touched Dollops upon the shoulder and commenced wriggling upon his stomach down toward the next furze-bush, and out into the open, lying flat as Indians do, until they had slid the distance between the two clumps of shrubs, and lay concealed, some twelve feet nearer to the scene of operations.

"See anything of your Dago friend?" whispered Cleek, after they had watched for a while in silence at this hive of living industry which, when the dawn had penetrated through the veil of night, would have passed out of sight and vision as though it were a mirage of their own imagining.

Dollops's voice was barely above a breath.

"Yessir. Just dahn there ter the right. Feller wiv the big black moustache. Slim-'ipped Johnny in the dark suit. Got blinkers on 'im like black velvet from wot I sees. Proper furriner—the dirty dog! Find 'im, sir?"

"Not yet. Oh! yes, I see! H'm. An Italian all right. But what the dickens is an Italian doing in these outlandish parts? And what attraction can this perishing climate have for people of their ilk? First the Lady of the Castle—and now this one. Unless.... Gad! there might be some connection between 'em. Did you find any trace of Captain Macdonald's handwriting, Dollops, to show me?"

"Yessir. Got a letter from 'is groom. Pinched it while we was a-talkin'. 'E showed it ter me, an' it's in me pocket. Summink wrong there, Gov'nor?"

"So wrong that it will take more than a little explaining upon the gentleman's part to put it right, my lad," responded Cleek in a whisper. "I want to see that letter—badly. But it will have to wait until we are back again at the house. And we'll be back in a jiffy. I'm satisfied with the result of this night's work, in this direction, at any rate, Dollops. You've done well—better than I could have done in similar circumstances, and I'm downright pleased with you!"

"Lor', sir!" Dollops's voice was choking with joyful emotion. "If yer goes and frows any more buckets at me, me chest will expand that big wiv pride as they'll be spottin' us in a trick—strite they will! But I'm glad I've made up for that footlin' mistyke over the lydy.... Gawd! Look, Guv'nor—look! 'Oo's this a-comin' now? A woman—strike me pink, if it ain't! And a lydy, too, from the cut of 'er. Now, 'oo in 'eavin's nyme is she?"

His pointing finger brought Cleek's eyes instantly into the line of it, and Cleek's face in the moonlight went suddenly pale. Dollops's eyes rested on the grim mask of his face, palely visible from the moon's rays. Then, at a sign from Cleek, he ducked his own head into the grass and lay motionless, as his master had already done.

And by the sound of the soft footsteps, coming from somewhere behind them, Cleek and his companion knew that the woman had reached the spot where they were lying hidden under the great clump of gorse. Then a hand reached down and touched Cleek softly upon the shoulder, and a woman's voice spoke into the darkness with a tender inflection; and at sound of it every nerve in his body tightened like wire for the tensity of the situation.

"Ross," said the woman's voice tenderly, "Ross dear, get up—get up! I followed you here to-night, because I—I wanted to talk with you— I had to talk with you, to tell you something! I simply had to. But I've been a fool to break parole, as you have done, with that man with the hawk eyes in the Castle even at this minute. But so much hangs upon it—Ross, so much! Look up and speak to me, and, whoever your companion is, tell him to go away until we have had a word together. Look up, look up—do!"