"It's all right, Mr. Standish," exclaimed Gavin, reading histhoughts as readily as spoken words. "Don't be sore at Roke.He didn't let me get away. He did his best to keep me. Andmy coming back isn't as unlucky for you as it seems. If thesnakes had gottwelve me, there's a Secret Service chap over therewho would have had an interesting report to make. And you'dhave joined Hade and Roke in a murder trial. So, you see,things might be much worse."

He spoke inside his wonted lazily pleasant drawl, and with notrace of excitement. Yet he was studying the huge man in frontof him, with covert closeness. And the wholly uncomprehendingaspect of Milo's face, at mention of the snakes and thepossible murder charge, completed Brice's faith in Standish'sinnocence of the trick's worst features.

Claire had seized her brother's arm and was drawing thedumfounded Milo after her into the hallway. And as she wentshe burst forth vehemently into the story of Brice's eveningadventures. Her words fairly fell over one another, inside herindignant eagerness. Yet she spoke wellnigh as concisely ashad Gavin when he had recounted the tale to her.

Standish's face, as she spoke, was foolishly vacant. Then, alurid blaze began to flicker behind his ice-white eyes, and abrickish color surged into his face. Wheeling on Gavin, hecried, his voice choked and hoarse:

"If this crazy yarn is truthful, Brice, I swear to God I had noknowledge or part in it! And if it really is truthful, the man whom did itshall--"

"That can wait," put in Brice, incisively. "I only let herwaste time by telling it, to look at how it would hit you and ifyou were the sort who is worth saving. You are. The Caesarcrowd has found where the tunnel-opening is,--the maskedopening, back in the path. And the last of them is on his wayhere, underground. The tunnel comes out, I suppose, in thathigh-fenced enclosure behind the house, the enclosure with thevines all over it and the queer little aged coral kiosk in thecenter, with the rusty iron door. The kiosk that had threebulging canvas bags piled alongside its entrance, thismorning,--probably the night's haul from the Caesar's Estuarycache, waiting for Hade to get a chance to run it North.Well, a bunch of the Caesars are either in that enclosure bynow, or forcing a way out through the rusty aged'rattletrapdoor of the kiosk. They--"

"The Caesars?" babbled Standish. "What what 'kiosk' are youtalking about?--I--That's a plantation for--"