"It seems, then, that we are both here for the same purpose?" said Fitzgerald, pulling down his cuffs, and running his fingers round his collar.
"Yes. You came too late or too soon." Breitmann stooped, and ran his hands over the rug.
The other saw him but dimly. "What's the matter?"
"I have lost one of my studs," with the frugal spirit of his mother's forebears. "You are stronger than I thought."
"It's a good thing you did not get that hold first. You'd have broken my arm."
"Wouldn't have given in, eh? I simply cried quits in order to start over again. There's no fair fighting in the dark, you know."
"Well, we have frightened him away. It is too bad."
"First to the cellar. Remember that hot-air box from the furnace, that backs the chimney, way up?"
"We'll go and have a look at that box. It just occurred to me that there is a cellar window within two feet of that box."
Fitzgerald exhibited his electric pocket lamp. "This will do."
After some mistakes they found their way to the cellar. The window was closed, but not locked, and resting against the wall was a plank. It leaned obliquely, as if left in a hurry. Fitzgerald took it up, and bridged between the box and the window ledge. Breitmann gave him a leg up, and in another moment he was examining the brick wall of the great chimney under a circular white patch of light. A dozen rows of bricks had been cleverly loosened. There were also evidences of chalk marks, something on the order of a diagram; but it was rather uncertain, as it had been redrawn four or five times. The man hadn't been sure of his ground.
"Yes." Only Breitmann himself knew what wild rage lay back of that monosyllable. He was sure now; that diagram brushed away any lingering doubt. The lock had been trifled with, but the man who had done the work had not been sure of his dimensions.
"Clever piece of work. Took away the mortar in his pockets; no sign of it here. The admiral had better send for his bricklayer, for more reasons than one. There'll be a defective flue presently. Now, what the devil is the duffer expecting to find?" Fitzgerald coolly turned the light full into the other's face.
"It is beyond me," with equal coolness; "unless there's a pirate's treasure behind there." The eyes blinked a little, which was but natural.