"Tight—tight as the Tombs," was Hank's answer, the simile being an apt one for him to use. "The door has that big bolt on the outside that I put on, besides the lock, of which I carried away the key, and the shutters are all nailed up. No danger of his getting away till we want him to!"
"Couldn't be better," grinned Jack approvingly. "Now, here's the letter. Tell me what you think of it?"
Opening the sheet of paper, the bully read aloud as follows:
"MR. AND MRS. DIGBY:
"Your son is safe and in good hands. I alone know where the men who stole him have taken him. But I am a poor man, and think that the information should be worth something to you. Suppose you place two hundred dollars under the signpost at the Montauk crossroads to-night. I will call and get it if you will mark the spot at which you place it with a rock. Look under the same rock in the morning and you will find directions how to get your boy back.
CAPTAIN NEMO."
"What do you think of that?" inquired Jack complacently, as he concluded the reading of his epistle.
"A bee-yoo-tiful piece of composition," said Hank approvingly, with one of his throaty chuckles; "the only thing is—who is Captain Nemo?"
"Why, so far as delivering the letter and getting the money is concerned, you are," said Jack decisively. "Eh, Bill?"
"Oh, by all means," assented Bill.