At nightfall of the third day when Kenny’s hatred of dots was approaching a frenzy and a ballet of spades danced with horrible rhythm through his dreams, the package came from Garry.  Kenny took it with a careless whistle and went slowly up the stairs.

The closing of his bedroom door transformed him.  He found matches and a lamp and marveled at the erratic pounding of his heart.  It was a muffled beat of triumph.  Mad laughter, tender and joyous, lurked perilously in his throat.  His feet would have pirouetted in gay abandon had he not, with much responsible feeling of control, forced himself to walk with dignity and calm.  But his nervous flying fingers fumbled clumsily with string and paper and taxed his patience to the utmost.

The bills were incredibly old and ragged.  Kenny stared at them with a low whistle of delight, blessing Garry.  Moreover, Fate and Garry had chosen to solve a problem for him by packing the bills in a strong tin box.  To unpack the money and dent the tin was the work of a moment.  When he had darkened the shining surface with lamp-smoke and rubbed it clean with a handkerchief which he burned, the box, discolored and dented, had an inescapable look of age, like the ragged bills.

Kenny went through the dark hallway to Adam’s room with cat-like tread, the searchlight that had been a part of his road equipment in his pocket, a bag of wood-ash, purloined the day before from Hannah’s kitchen, and the battered box tucked unobtrusively beneath his coat.  He locked himself in and drew a long, gasping breath of intense relief.

Though wind creaks startled him again and again as he made a pedestal of faded books for his searchlight and directed its glaring circle upon the blackened wall of the fireplace, no dreaded hand upon the knob disturbed him.

He worked noiselessly and with care, removing the lower bricks with his penknife.

Brick after brick he loosened, burrowing deep in the solid wall; then with infinite care and patience he walled the money in, filled the crevices with wood-ash and hid the remaining bricks in the chimney.

He went down to supper with an unusual air of calm, but his head was aching badly.  Hughie, Joan said, was nearing the last dot.  He was discouraged and Hannah was cross.  Kenny toyed absently with the food upon his plate.

“Mavourneen,” he said, “I’m wondering.”

“Wondering what, Kenny?”

“If perhaps the chart isn’t purposely misleading—­”

“Like Uncle’s hints to you?”

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t thought of it.”

“Every clue we have found has sent us out of doors.”

“Would he, I wonder, Kenny, hide the money in the house?”

“I’m wondering too.”

“The sitting room!”

“There,” admitted Kenny, “he was often alone.”

“Kenny, shall we look to-night?”

Kenny had his moment of doubt.