the thought isn't displeasing to me. That was a neat
move--you're waking up, Archie! Well, sir, young Congdon was offering
something handsome to any one who'd steal the old man's umbrella so he
could get hold of the will. I've sunk pretty low, Archie, but stealing
umbrellas is distinctly not in my line!"

At the end of two hours the Governor declared that they must take a nap
before setting out and turned into one of the berths and was soon
snoring. Archie was glad of a chance to be alone with his thoughts, but
he found them poor company. After kicking about restlessly for a time he
slept but only to wander through a wild phantasmagoria of crime in which
Isabel Perry, dressed precisely as he had seen her at his sister's, led
him on from one wild scene to another, clapping her hands with delight
at each exploit.

"You are doing splendidly," she laughed, as he turned to her, pistol in
hand, after shooting a gigantic policeman with fiery red whiskers.
"Really you exceed my expectations. I am proud of you, Mr. Bennett," she
was saying when a vigorous shake brought him up standing.

"To gain or lose it all," he stammered rubbing his eyes. But it was not
Isabel he was addressing but his confederate, blandly smiling.

"The boy quotes poetry!" the Governor exclaimed. "Archie, you've come in
answer to my prayers! Together we shall drink of the fount of Castalia.
We shall chum with Apollo and the Muses Nine! But the gods call us
elsewhere! We'll snatch a bite and be off! And we've got a job all
waiting for us. One of the brotherhood has commissioned me to dig up
some boodle he's planted over in New Hampshire. You may recall the
incident. Red Leary, a rare boy, who pulled off some big enterprises in
Kansas and Missouri a dozen years ago, emerged from Leavenworth and
floated into good old conservative New England where he held up an
express messenger and sauntered off with fifty thousand dollars in new
bank notes fresh from the Treasury. I've been in touch with Red
lately--he's been up in Nova Scotia but doesn't like the climate, and he
wants his boodle. Do you follow me?"

"He hid it somewhere and wants your help in recovering it?"

"Right the first time! In the summer there's a lot of travel north and
south and Leary, who's had an honest job up there since he made the
haul, is even now wandering down Lake Champlain to meet me. No, Archie,
communication through the underworld is much less difficult than you
imagine. Regular