“I’m not looking for any chance bullets,” Ned replied, coolly. “We’re caught, my boy, and it is up to us to move cautiously. Why don’t you turn off your light?” he added, half angrily.
“Oh,” Frank replied, “you’re getting it out there, too, are you? Well, I was trying to save you a shock. There’s a dead man in here, and I’m going to keep my light going until I’m out of the hole. I did shut it off once, and felt the grasp of a hand on my neck—and there wasn’t any hand there either.”
“A dead man?” repeated Ned.
“Sure,” Frank replied. “And he’s not been dead very long, at that.”
Again the boy heard that vicious chuckle at the entrance. Then a voice came out of the mouldy darkness:
“How are you getting on in the Secret Service, Ned Nestor?” the voice asked.
“Finely!” Ned called back, but it seemed to him that his voice shook with the peril of the situation. He was known, his mission there was no secret, the enemies of the government were already on the ground, ready to combat him in his work. Just how far their hostility would extend was evidenced by the fall of rocks outside. It seemed to the boy that the struggle would be to the death.
“Who are you talking to?” Frank asked.
Ned did not reply to the question, for there came the sound of a scuffle outside, then a shot, a cry of pain, and the cavern was still as a grave.
In the silence Frank’s movements were heard, and Ned knew that he was backing out of the tunnel, with his light still burning. Entirely at a loss to account for the fracas outside, Ned awaited his approach with a fast-beating heart. When at last he shut off his electric searchlight and dropped from the tunnel through the old cupboard Ned seized his hand and drew him away.