behind
the gorse-bush.

"Look there!" she whispered.

I knew as soon as I looked that we were not alone in that wild,
solitary-seeming spot; that there were human ears listening, and human
eyes watching; that we were probably in danger. There behind the
yellow-starred clump of green was what at first sight appeared to be a
newly-opened grave, but was in reality a freshly-dug excavation; a
heap of soil and stone, just flung out, lay by it; on this some hand
had flung down a mattock; near it rested a pick. And suddenly, as by a
heaven-sent inspiration, I saw things. We had stumbled on the
graveyard which Salter Quick had wished to find; de Knaythville and
Netherfield were identical terms which had got mixed up in his
uneducated mind; here the missing treasure was buried, and we had
walked into this utterly deserted spot to interrupt--what, and who?

Before I could say a word, I heard Miss Raven catch her breath; then
another sharp exclamation came from her lips--stifled, but clear.

"Oh, I say!" she cried. "Who--who are these--these men?"

Her hand moved instinctively towards my arm as she spoke, and as I
drew it within my grasp I felt that she was trembling a little. And in
that same instant, turning quickly in the direction she indicated, I
became aware of the presence of two men who had quietly stepped out
from the shelter of the high undergrowth on the landward side of the
clearing and stood silently watching us. They were attired in
something of the fashion of seamen, in rough trousers and jerseys, but
I saw at first glance that they were not common men. Indeed, I saw
more, and realized with a sickening feeling of apprehension that our
wandering into that place had brought us face to face with danger. One
of the two, a tallish, slender-built, good-looking man, not at all
unpleasant to look on if it had not been for a certain sinister and
cold expression of eye and mouth, I recognized as a stranger whom I
had noticed at the coroner's inquest on Salter Quick and had then
taken for some gentleman of the neighbourhood. The other, I felt sure,
was Netherfield Baxter. There was the golden-brown beard of which Fish
had told me and Scarterfield; there, too, was the half-hidden scar on
the left cheek. I had no doubt whatever that Miss Raven and myself
were in the hands of the two men who had bought the _Blanchflower_
from Jallanby, the ship-broker of Hull.

The four of us stood steadily gazing at each other for what se