Roake ran up the beach a few rods, sprang into the Fleetwing, and set sail, leaving Snags and Haywood on the shore.
Snags soon spoke.
“Boss,” said he, in a mysterious tone, “I must know who you are to-night. I must see you without that mask on, too.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Haywood.
“I mean that I’ve worked in the dark long enough. I have never seen your face, nor heard your real name. You have given all your orders to Roake, and all your confidence. He has been the favored one.”
“Well, Snags,” said Haywood, soothingly, “you know I cannot be too cautious. A secret is best kept by a few.”
“Not if those who have a right to know it are kept in the dark. However, we won’t argue that. I’ve got something to tell you. I haven’t told Roake yet. I preferred to wait and see you. Roake sent me to Elm Grove that night, by your order, not to do what I did do, but to see what was going on. I was to steal into the house, open Colonel Conrad’s private desk, and see if I could find any papers of importance—a will, for instance. I know why I was sent. It was because Roake had not the courage, and, besides, he wouldn’t know a will from a search-warrant. Is not this all true?”
“All true,” assented Haywood.
“The murder was not in the plan,” continued Snags, with a shudder. “I did it in self-defense, for the colonel saw me and turned on me. I had nothing to do but the thing I did do, and it will haunt me all my life. But never mind that. What I have to tell you is that I did find something.”
“Ah!”