he trunk of
the tree. To do so she perforce pushed Cicely back. The latter was not
quite prepared for the sudden movement, the ground was uneven, she
swayed, clutched violently at her companion to save herself, and over
they both rolled down the bank, almost to the very feet of Scott
himself.

As Lindsay and Cicely came crashing down the bank, Scott uttered a cry
of consternation. In the suddenness of his dismay, the lantern dropped
from his hand, extinguishing the light in its fall.

Instantly the two girls were on their feet, and rushed helter-skelter
across the garden through the darkness. They plunged anyhow through
bushes and over flower-beds, scratching their faces on overhanging
boughs, and tearing their dresses on thorns, their one fear lest Scott
should be pursuing them, and their one anxiety to gain the safe shelter
of the house.

They reached the side entrance without hearing any footsteps behind
them. If Scott had tried to follow them, they had evidently managed to
elude him, and he must have given up the chase. The door was still
unbolted, and they hurried breathlessly upstairs, luckily meeting nobody
on the way. What a harbour of refuge it seemed to be, back in their own
room! Without daring to light the candle, they went back to bed again
with all possible speed.

"Well, we have had an adventure!" began Lindsay, when they were once
more comfortably ensconced between the sheets.

"Do you think Scott noticed who we were?" whispered Cicely.

"I can't tell. He had just time to catch a glimpse of our faces before
the lantern went out."

"I'm sure they were doing something dreadful that they wanted to keep
secret, he looked so utterly horror-stricken at seeing us."

"There's no doubt about it. The unfortunate part is that now they find
they've been discovered, they'll bury the treasure somewhere else
instead."

"What a pity we fell just at that moment!"

Cicely's voice was very doleful.

"It will have aroused their suspicions, too, and will make them extra
careful," lamented Lindsay. "If Scott recognized us, he and Mrs. Wilson
will know we're watching them. They'll owe us a grudge. 'The Griffin'
was bad enough before, but she'll be worse than ever now."

They scanned the old housekeeper's face narrowly next morning, as she
carried the coffee into the dining-room, but her countenance wore its
accustomed aspect of grim inscrutability. If she connected them with
last night's happenings, she certain