She nodded in understanding. “I know. That’s just the way I feel. Let’s go back—Elizabeth’ll think something’s happened to me.” They turned towards the little house.
They were silent for a while after that, each busy with thoughts that found no outward expression. It was Val that broke the silence at last.
“If I were old Peter Pomeroy,” he said slowly, “and I had a lot of money to hide—now, where would I put it?” he asked himself, though he was speaking aloud.
She looked at him in comprehension. “Perhaps,” she said, “in the old house⸺”
He assented. “That’s just it. It seems to me that I’d put it in a place where nobody was likely to go near it. That’s the old house, of course. No chance of anyone going near it there—to find the money by accident. Anybody who finds it there will have gone there purposely—and, of course, only you and Teck are supposed to know anything about it. I rather think we’d better explore the old place.”
“To-morrow,” she replied. “I’ll be glad to have you come along with me⸺”
“To-morrow Teck will be there,” he said, and she stared at him peculiarly.
“Teck?”
“Teck,” he repeated. He can reason these things out as easily as we can—and I don’t believe he’s going to waste any time. He’s got somebody with him—a member of his gang, I think—I noticed them together on the boat from Cape Charles; you can rest assured that he’ll be there to-morrow, unless he has better information where the money is; and I don’t think he has, though he has the books. . . .” this last was
