Just at the spot he heard a tramping in the fallen leaves, and, looking up hastily, saw Ralph Temple approaching.
Now, Temple, as we know, was a man of questionable reputation, and, moreover, once already he and Congreve had had an angry altercation with him. It is not much wonder, therefore, that Philip’s heart beat with fear at the prospect of meeting this man alone, so far from help.
He could not get away without attracting attention, and, therefore, as the best thing under the circumstances, hid himself behind the broad trunk of a stately oak tree, and in fear and trembling waited for the unwelcome intruder to depart.
Ralph came along, with a quick, swinging gait. He was a tall man, of strong frame, and an unprepossessing countenance appropriate enough to his character and reputation.
His first glance was directed toward the spot where he had helped bury the box upon which his future plans depended.
There was something that startled him in the evident displacement of the leaves, as if there had been others there since the morning.
“Can it have been taken?” he asked himself, with a thrill of anxiety.
He strode forward hurriedly, and, removing the leaves, discovered signs of recent disturbance. Most suspicious of all, he found one of the stakes, the end soiled with dirt, which had been used by the detectives.
With a beating heart and a muttered imprecation, he began to dig down to ascertain whether his apprehensions were justified.
Philip, peering from behind the tree, was very much alarmed by this incomprehensible proceeding.