Dick nodded, and Wyatt seized and wrung his hand.
“My dear old boy,” he cried, “you’ll be a general long before I get to be colonel.”
“Nonsense!”
“’Tisn’t. That’s it, my dear boy. It’s the right nail, and you’ve hit it bang on the head. Thank ye. Now I can go and sleep till breakfast-time with a feeling of delicious serenity, knowing that we have got hold of the end of the clue.”
“Not yet,” said Dick. “Where is it?”
“Somewhere in the old building. It’s going to be the old nursery game of ‘hot boiled beans and very good butter,’ and I believe we’re burning now.”
“Almost,” said Dick; “and we dare not open a window.”
“No, we must have no more of that, old fellow. And, I say, I’m very glad you were as great an offender as I was over that business. But, look here, if we find to-morrow morning that it is as you say—”
“And find the place,” put in Dick.
“Of course—and find the place—I’m going to hoist that gentleman with his own petard.”