“My heavens!” gasped the discoverer; and a voice, apparently at his elbow, said: “Quite so; if the heavens may be purchased with the gifts of the earth. The gifts are yours, Mr. Tregarvon; first by the right of inheritance, and now by the right of discovery.” Tregarvon twisted himself into a sitting posture, gritting his teeth at the ankle’s protest and holding his head in his hands. At a little distance away sat the professor of mathematics, one long leg jack-knifed for a support, and the other stretched awkwardly upon a makeshift cushion of the fallen leaves. “You?” Tregarvon cried. “Did you fall over the cliff, too?” “I think it was I who showed you the way,” Hartridge amended. “You are a very apt pupil, Mr. Tregarvon. I was scarcely well down here before you played the part of Jill.” “Are you--are you hurt?” “Not by your shot-gun charge, happily; but my leg is broken. And you?” Tregarvon winced. “I have a cracked skull, I think, and an ankle that won’t let me get up. But about that gunshot; I didn’t fire at you; I shot into the air to make you stop. Just the same, you gave me a quick fit of the horrors. When you yelled, I thought I had inadvertently killed you. What made you run?” The professor’s smile was a little rueful, and also a little shamefaced. [Illustration: “My heavens!” gasped the discoverer; and a voice, apparently at his elbow, said: “Quite so.”] “What made you chase me?” he asked. “Because I was hot--fighting mad. I wanted to drag you to an accounting on the spot. I don’t suppose you will be foolish enough to deny that you set the leaf fire that caused the explosion?” “Since I was near enough to be blown up myself such a denial might have the weight of circumstantial evidence to support it,” was the quiet reply. “But I do not make the denial. It was I who set the leaves afire. I shall be greatly relieved if you can tell me that nobody was injured.” “So far as I know the dynamite didn’t kill any of us. But tell me, did you start that fire knowing that the explosion would follow?” “By no means. I may confess that I knew the dynamite had been placed; but I supposed, as the most ordinary matter of course, that your men had taken care of it when they captured their prisoner.” “Then why did you light the fire?” Again the quaint smile flitted across the face of the man who had always contrived to tell less than the sum total of all he knew. “Once again, Mr. Tregarvon, you are going into the question of motives, which is a very large field, indeed. Let us say that I wished to make a diversion of some sort. Will that satisfy you?” “No,” was the blunt reply. “I am sorry; I am afraid it will have to suffice for the present.” Tregarvon’s head was throbbing so painfully that he found it next to impossible to think clearly. But he would not desist.