"Do you think Carl will try to unmoor the Hawk?" returned Dick, with a hurried look in the direction Carl had gone.
"No, he won't do that."
Matt and Dick thereupon retraced their course to the hut. Yamousa had vanished from the door and the boys groped their way through the stifling, pungent vapor to the bench.
The smoke picture had already been formed and showed the interior of a room with stone walls. On the floor of the room lay a man, bound hand and foot and, to all appearances, a prisoner. He had gray hair and mustache, and his features, although vague and indistinct, were easily recognized.
"Townsend!" whispered Matt.
"Aye!" returned Dick, "Townsend, as I live!"
The stone chamber faded into the front of a building, and along the front was a sign, the lettering of which could easily be read: "M. Crenelette, Antiques."
This second picture faded and Yamousa laid a piece of board over the top of the jar. Slowly the air cleared and the old woman stepped close to the bench, shaking her withered head until the gold rings in her ears and nose danced glimmeringly.
"You know ze man in ze stone room?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Matt, in a stifled voice.