“I’m willing to let it go,” said Tom. “I don’t believe there is any. But if there is—”
“Hark!” interrupted Jack. “Someone is coming!”
They all listened. Plainly the noise of someone ascending the stairs could be heard.
“Look out for squalls,” murmured Bert.
Tom stooped and picked up the axe he had dropped, thrusting his electric light into his pocket. A moment later the old hermit, followed by Professor Skeel, appeared in the secret room, while Sam Heller and his crony Nick brought up in the background. There was a look of anger and amazement on their faces.
“Ha!” cried the hermit. “He is here! The other one! We have them all now!”
“Who is here?” asked Mr. Skeel, who had not seen our hero at first.
“I am!” cried the lad who had come to the rescue of his chums.
“Tom Fairfield!” gasped the former Latin instructor. “I—I am—”
“Yes, I’m here, and I’ll see that you give an account of yourself!” snapped Tom. “You’ve been carrying things with too high a hand. You’re at the end of your rope now!”