the Fens themselves.  And what went on here in these uninhabited reaches of the marshland?  Nothing that could be seen by daylight, for he had traversed every step of them, and gained no information for his pains.  Therefore there could be no machinery, or anything of that sort.  H’m.  It was a bit of a facer, true; but of one thing he was certain.  Somehow, in some way, the Frozen Flames played their part.  That factory at Saltfleet and the fishing boats and the Fens were all linked up in one inexplicable chain, if one could only find the key that unlocked it.  And what was a man doing out there at night, with a revolver?  What business was he up to?  And he had said there were two others on the look-out, as well.

Cleek pulled out a little blackened clay pipe, which was part of his make-up as Bill Jones, and, plugging it with tobacco, began to smoke steadily.  Dollops, casting a sideways glance at his master, knew what this sign meant, and spoke never a word, until they had left the Fens far behind them and were well on their way toward the docks, and the “appointment” with Black Whiskers at twelve o’clock.  Then: 

“Notice anything, Dollops?” Cleek asked, slewing round and looking at the boy quizzically.

“How do you mean, sir?”

“Why, when you got to the top of those little steps and came out into the Fens.”

“Only the Frozen Flames, sir.  Why?”

“Oh, nothing.  It’ll keep.  Just a little thing I saw that led me a long way upon the road I’m trying to travel.  You’ll hear about it later.  Time’s getting on, Dollops, my lad.  You’re due with your friend Black Whiskers in another ten minutes—­and we’re about that from the dockyard.  Wonder if there’d be any chance of me lending a hand?”

Dollops thought a moment.

“You might try, sir—­’twould do no ’arm, anyway,” he said after a pause.  “Pertickler as you’re my mate, so ter speak.  Ought ter be able to work it, I should think....  Look.  Who’s a-comin’ now?  If it ain’t ole Black Whiskers ’imself!”

And Black Whiskers it was, to be sure.  He lounged up to them, hands in pockets, hat pulled well down over his eyes, a sinister, ugly figure.  He had an “air”—­and it was by no means a pleasant one.

“Hullo, youngster!” he called out in a harsh voice.  “Been seein’ the country—­eh?  Better fer you and yer mate if yer keeps yer eyes well on the ground in this part uv the world.  Never meddle in someone else’s business.  It don’t pay.”  His voice lowered suddenly, and he jerked a thumb back over his shoulder.  “Mate on the square with you, I s’pose?  Comin’ along now?”

“Bet yer life I am!” responded Dollops heartily, giving him a significant wink. “‘Course I ain’t said nuffin’ ter ole Bill abaht what you tole me, but I know ’e’s a cute un.  No flies on ole Bill, guv’nor, give yer me oath on that.  What abaht it, now?  Shall us bring him along too?  Just as you ses, guv’nor, seein’ as you’re the boss, but ’e’s a strong fellow is my mate—­and ’is mouth’s like a trap.”