defaulter and he had no intention of being exiled to a foreign
country. He wanted to come back here and take his place in the
community while I was in the pen."

"But even then--"

He interrupted her. "Listen, dear--" He crossed to the
billiard-room door, closed it firmly, returned.

"The architect that built this house was an old friend of mine,"
he said in hushed accents. "We were together in France and you
know the way fellows get to talking when they're far away and cut
off--" He paused, seeing the cruel gleam of the flame throwers
--two figures huddled in a foxhole, whiling away the terrible hours
of waiting by muttered talk.

"Just an hour or two before--a shell got this friend of mine," he
resumed, "he told me he had built a hidden room in this house."

"Where?" gasped Dale.

Brooks shook his head. "I don't know. We never got to finish that
conversation. But I remember what he said. He said, 'You watch
old Fleming. If I get mine over here it won't break his heart. He
didn't want any living being to know about that room.'"

Now Dale was as excited as he.

"Then you think the money is in this hidden room?"