"It looks like a cave," said Harry. "It is, but it’s more than that, too. This place is no end old, you know. It was here when they fought the Wars of the Roses, I’ve heard. And come on–I’ll show you something!" He led the way on into the cave, which narrowed as they went. But Harry, pointing his flashlight ahead, saw that it was not going to stop. "Oh! A secret passage! I understand now!" he exclaimed, finally. "Isn’t it jolly?" said the other. "Can’t you imagine what fun we used to have here when we played about? You see, this may have been used to bring in food in time of siege. There used to be another spur of this tunnel that ran right into the house. But that was all let go to pot, for some reason. This is all that is left. But it’s enough. It runs way down under the river–and in a jiffy we’ll be out in the meadows on the other side. I say, what’s your name?" They hadn’t had time to exchange the information each naturally craved about the other before. And now, as they realized it, they both laughed. Harry told his name. "Mine’s Jack Young," said the other scout. "I say, you don’t talk like an Englishman?" "I’m not," explained Harry. "I’m American. But I’m for England just now–and we were caught here trying to find out something about that place." They came out into the open then, where the light of the stars enabled them to see one another. Jack nodded. "I got an idea of what you were after–you two," he said. "The other one’s English, isn’t he?" "Dick Mercer? Yes!" said Harry, astonished. "But how did you find out about us?" "Stalked you," said Jack, happily. "Oh, I’m no end of a scout! I followed you as soon as I caught you without your bicycles." "We must have been pretty stupid to let you do it, though," said Harry, a little crestfallen. "I’m glad we did, but suppose you’d been an enemy! A nice fix we’d have been in!" "That’s just what I thought about you," admitted Jack. "You see, everyone has sort of laughed at me down here because I said there might be German spies about. I’ve always been suspicious of the people who took Bray Park. They didn’t act the way English people do. They didn’t come to church, and when the pater–I told you he was the vicar here, didn’t I?–went to call, they wouldn’t let him in! Just sent word they were out! Fancy treating the vicar like that!" he concluded with spirit. Harry knew enough of the customs of the English countryside to understand that the new tenants of Bray Park could not have chosen a surer method of bringing down both dislike and suspicion upon themselves. "That was a bit too thick, you know," Jack went on. "So when the war started, I decided I’d keep my eyes open, especially on any strangers who came around. So there you have it. I say! You’d better let me try to make that ankle easier. You’re limping badly."