for the summer, and on the ocean side was the pounding surf. The hut, as
Tom recalled the directions, lay just beyond a group of stunted hemlock
trees that set a little way hack from the ocean, on a bluff overlooking
the sea. It was not near any other building.

Slowly, and avoiding going any nearer the other houses than they could
help, the little party made its way. They had to depend on their own
judgement now, for the minor details of the location of the hut could
not be given in the letter from Russia. In fact the spies themselves, in
writing to their head officers about the matter, had not described the
location in detail.

"That looks like it over there," said Tom at last, when they had gone
about a mile and a half, and saw a lonely hut with a light burning in
it.

Cautiously they approached and, as they drew nearer, they saw that the
light came through the window of a small hut.

"Looks like the place," commented the detective.

"We'll have a look," remarked Tom.

He crept up so he could glance in the window, and no sooner had he
peered in, than he motioned for the others to approach.

Looking under a partly-drawn curtain, Mr. Damon and Mr. Trivett saw the
Russian whom they sought. He was seated at a table, his head bowed on
his hands, and in the room were three men. A rifle stood in one corner,
near one of the guards.