'Yes. That's why we had to get rid of him. I did that. Posed as a book agent. Saw the old fellow's pills on the table. Dropped a few potent pellets in with them. Of course the big job was when I used your information about the hiding place. Jupe stole the whole works. I was afraid he would strangle young Duncan. I had to whistle for him.'
'Yes. A murder would have been bad. Still, it might have been well to put Duncan out of the way.
Coffran was worried about him.'
'Well, if he found out that Duncan was dangerous, he probably attended to him. I don't think the boy knew enough to make trouble. It was Coffran's job to attend to him, so I let it go at that. The old man doped out the scheme; he sent the letters, that's all. It wasn't too much to ask him to attend to one man in New York, even if it meant a murder.'
As Frenchy was about to speak, Jupe leaped from the table and glared wickedly at the corner beyond the pine-board boxes. He began to snarl, then he started forward. Chefano whistled sharply. The ape-faced man came back to the table.
'What's the matter?' asked Frenchy.
'He does that right along,' replied Chefano. 'Thinks he sees something.'
Frenchy looked toward the corner.
'That's it, I guess,' he said. 'See that funny shadow? It must be the position of the boxes. It looks almost like a person's shadow.'
'Jupe is a lot of trouble,' asserted Chefano. 'I had to keep him up here all week.'
'What! You left the cabin? Do you think it wise to hang out in this place?'
'Can't help it. A week ago - Monday it was - I left the door unlocked. He ran down to the road and attacked a farmer who was passing. Two men came along in a car and tried to help. Jupe might have killed all three, only he heard me whistling and ran back.'
'Whew! That was bad. Did they follow him?'
'Yes. I explained that he was a half-wit, and that seemed to satisfy them. Tried to bluff it at first, but they saw Jupe in the window. I fixed things up, but I brought him over here after that. Left a light burning in the cabin for a couple of nights as a precaution.'
'It would be bad if he was seen here.'
'Nobody ever comes around this place. I let Jupe out occasionally. He runs around the graveyard. Once or twice he went down to the fence, but couldn't get out. I brought him back in a hurry.'
'You certainly know how to handle him.'
'Well, I had him in Italy, that year I traveled with a circus so the police would know I was behaving myself. Then I sent him over here with another fellow who understood him. I got him back when I came over here, and he's proved useful in this job.'
The men remained silent for a few minutes. Then Chefano rose and took a yellow slicker from a corner opposite the pine-board boxes.
'Let's go for a walk, Frenchy,' he said. 'I'm tired of being inside.'
'It's still drizzling,' replied Frenchy. 'I walked from the old barn, half a mile down the pike, where I always put my car.'
'Well, you've got a rubber coat. It won't hurt you. Jupe doesn't mind the wet. I'll show you where I've dug the pit. Did it last night.'
The men walked toward the passage, followed by Jupe. Their shadows, distorted beneath the lamplight, moved gnomishly upon the floor. At the same time the long shadow from the boxes seemed to expand and move after them.
Outside the building the trio walked beyond the old ruin and passed the mausoleum which shone through the darkness. Chefano produced a tiny flashlight and pointed it toward the side of the massive tomb. The light revealed a deep grave, with a pile of earth beside it.
'You dug far enough down,' observed Frenchy.
'Why not?' asked Chefano. 'I had plenty of time. The deeper the better. This isn't much deeper than the other ones.'
'Perhaps not. It looks deeper though. It must go down below the foundations of the mausoleum.'
'It does. I thought of digging it inside the mausoleum; but that would have been bad. Out here it might be anybody's grave. I'll get Jupe to carry over one of those old tombstones and plant it here.'
'You couldn't have dug it in the mausoleum.'
'Why not?'
'It must have a stone floor.'
'No, indeed. It was never finished, I suppose. Here, take a look.'
The door grated on rusty hinges as Chefano pulled it open. The flashlight revealed soft dirt, on which lay a few old rusty spades.
The man with twisted lips turned out the light. Frenchy walked away as Chefano tried to swing the door shut. It required several attempts as the hinges had sprung.
Just as Chefano closed the door, Jupe strode over and snarled angrily. He clawed at the edge of the door as if to open it. Chefano hissed. The ape-faced man quieted.
'Stay out of there,' he ordered. 'Run along. Back in the house.'
'He's a lot of trouble, isn't he?' observed Frenchy.
'Plenty. He's tried to get in that place a couple of times during the day. I've shown him that it's empty. But he's never satisfied. To-night's no time to humor him.'
'Keep him impatient.' Frenchy grinned as they descended the steps.
Inside the cellar room the two men sat at the table and conversed, while Jupe, after a short prowl, took his place on one of the pine-board boxes. Neither of the men paid any attention to him. At times the ape-faced man raised him head as if to listen. But fear of Chefano's wrath prevented him from making any motion.
Yet Jupe was not satisfied.
His keen ears seemed to detect a strange noise that did not cease - a noise that neither Chefano nor Frenchy would have heard if they had listened for it.
CHAPTER XXXI. DUNCAN GOES ALONE
TWO of the three men in Josh Stevens's cottage were growing sleepy. The rain that dripped outside was quieting.
'Half past eleven,' said Harry Vincent. 'I'm tired. I'm glad you came along this afternoon, major. It's nice to know that we don't have to go out in the rain.'
The Englishman gave a sleepy laugh.
'A good night to sleep,' he said. 'But I don't feel like dying. I'm rather pleased that I did come in time to look around a bit.'
'No more wireless messages?' inquired Bruce Duncan, impatiently.
'The last one this afternoon was final,' declared Harry. He seemed somewhat annoyed by Duncan's question.
'Well,' said Bruce, 'I don't like it. Sitting around here when we know that Chefano and his ape-man are waiting. I wish we were going up there to-night.'
'Not to-night,' said the Englishman. 'It will be good sport to wait. I never cared for rainy nights. They were dreadful in the trenches.'
'I'm going to turn in,' declared Harry.
'Ditto,' said Major Weston. 'good night, old top.'
The two men went to their rooms. Bruce Duncan sat beside the embers of the open fire. He realized that he had been outvoted. At the same time he felt that his own opinion deserved some consideration. It was his information that had put the wheels in motion. He had a greater interest in the affairs of the ruined house than any one else - Major Weston included. As the nephew of Harvey Duncan, the closest friend of Prince Samanov, Bruce felt that his own word should be final.
Looking at the table, he saw Vincent's automatic. His own gun was in his room upstairs. A plan began to
