"I guess," answered Motor Matt, slowly, "that we have found the old vault. That was an iron door that closed on us, if the noise it made counts for anything."
"Oh, glory!" grunted Dick, disgustedly. "How long can we stay in here without smothering to death?"
"The air seems to be fairly pure, at present—purer, in fact, than it was out in that other room. But, Whistler! Why he was the last man I was expecting to see."
"And we didn't see much of him, at that," growled Dick. "My eye, but here's a go! Whistler didn't lose much time coming in from that bayou. I wonder if he's found Jurgens, and if the two of them have got the hooks on Carl?"
"There are a whole lot of things I wish I knew, Dick," said Matt.
"Same here, matey. Whistler had some one with him, and that other man may have been Jurgens."
"Well, if it was Jurgens, then it's a cinch Jurgens wasn't so much off his balance as Rigolette led us to believe. But I don't think it was Jurgens."
"Why not?"
"Jurgens would have said something to let us know that he had a hand in our capture."
"Right-o. Jurgens is a good deal of a boaster and likes to run up his signals whenever he gets the chance. We've had a nice time of it since we reached New Orleans, I must say! With you and me locked up, and Carl running around with his mind in a haze, I wonder what's going to become of the Hawk? She can't roost out there on the dock indefinitely."