He stooped to investigate.
It was then he noticed for the first time an edge of linen projecting above the masonry.
"Marcia must 'a' stuffed a rag in there to keep the thing from wobblin'," he mused. "Ain't that like a woman? She ain't helped matters none, neither. It wobbles just the same. I can fix it better'n that."
Producing his knife, Elisha pried the brick from its place.
As he lifted it out, a handkerchief came with it disgorging at his feet a flat, blue leather case.
If the sheriff's eyes bulged when he caught sight of it, they all but popped from his head when, egged on by curiosity, he pressed the catch on the box.
Quick as a flash the whole situation clarified in his mind.
These were the widely heralded Long Island jewels; and the thief who had stolen them was here beneath this roof!
It was plain as a pikestaff. Hidden by fog he had escaped in his boat and inadvertently run aground at the mouth of Wilton Harbor.