, with a long pause
between the words. "Cameron knew who you were, and that is why he took
you into his own home; that is why the settlement of the estate was
delayed year after year. He was waiting for you to come of age."

Jim Scoby was glaring at the speaker as if he thought to finish him by
a look. The night watchman appeared to be waiting for some development
which had not yet been put into words--possibly some revelation
regarding the night of the crime.

Nestor saw the look and understood it. Fearful that Big Bob would not
have the strength to speak the words which appeared to be forming on
his lips, he bent over him and whispered:

"What about that night in the Cameron building? We can work out the
problem of the heirship later on. Tell us what took place in the
Cameron suite on the night you went there last--the night of the crime."

"Let him tell the truth, then!" almost shouted Jim Scoby. "Let him
tell the thing as he found it!"

"So you saw him there that night?" asked Nestor, turning to Scoby.

"Let him answer!" was the rasping reply. "Only make him tell the
truth! He might put the crime on the wrong shoulders."

It was long after midnight now, and the storm had died out. Save for
an occasional dash of rain and an infrequent roll of electricity over
the mountains, the night was normal, and here and there a star crept
out to meet the coming dawn.

"I was in the Cameron building that night," Big Bob said, glancing
painfully in the direction of the night watchman. "I saw him there!"

"The fourth man!" whispered Frank, nudging Nestor with his elbow. "The
fourth man you have been talking about!"

The dying man opened his lips again, but did not speak, for voices were
heard outside, and then a sharp command was given. The order was to
shoot if resistance was offered by those inside. Then the door was
thrown open and a bit of polished steel flashed in the light of the
fire. The alarmed boys dropped the weapons they had drawn at a signal
from Nestor.

The man in the doorway, wet, draggled, and exhausted with the exertions
of the night was Lieutenant Gordon, and back of his stalwart figure the
light showed a dozen armed men in plain clothes. Some of them, at
least, were known to Nestor.

"You are safe, then?"

With a sigh of relief the lieutenant dropped down on a rude bench that
stood against the wall and beckoned his men into the shelter of the
hut. Then he noted the two men on the f