"The rumor of that tunnel has been hereabout for over a century," explained Brice, to the Standishes. "Just as the treasure-rumors have. I heard of it when I was a kid. The Caesars must have heard it, a thousand times. But, till this game started, there was no impetus to look for it, of course. The tunnel is supposed to have been dug just after that Seminole warparty cut off the refugees in the path. By the way, Miss Standish, I didn't mention it while we were still there, but the mangrove-swamp is supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of those killed settlers." Brother and sister glanced at each other, almost in guilt, as it seemed to the observing Brice. And Claire said, shortly: "I know. Every one around here has heard it. Some of the negroes and even some of the more ignorant crackers declare they have heard screams from the swamp on dark nights and that white figures have been seen flitting--" "So?" queried Brice. "Back in the boat, you were starting to tell me how you sat on the veranda, one night, and heard a cry in the swamp and then saw a white figure emerge from the path. Yes? I have a notion that that white figure was responsible for the cry, and that your brother and Rodney Hade were responsible for both. Wasn't that a trick to scare off any chance onlookers, when some of the treasure was to be brought here?" "Yes," admitted Claire, shamefacedly, and she added: "Milo hadn't told me anything about it. And Rodney thought I was at a dance at the Royal Palm Hotel, that evening. I had expected to go, but I had a headache. When the cry and the white form frightened me so, Milo had to tell me what they both meant. That was how I found out, first, that they--" "Claire!" cried Standish in alarmed rebuke. "It's all right, Standish," said Gavin. "I know all about it. A good deal more than she does. And none of it from her, either. We'll come to that, later. Now for the prisoner." Turning to the glumly scowling youth, he resumed: "How many of them are there in this merry little midnight murder party?" "I dunno," grunted the boy. "Devil, is that true?" gravely asked Gavin, bending again toward Simon Cameron. "Six!" babbled the lad, eagerly. "Pop and--" "Never mind giving me a census of them," said Brice. "It wouldn't do me any good. I've left my copies of 'Who's Who' and Burke's Peerage at home. And they figured Mr. Standish and Mr. Hade would both be here, to-night?" "Most nights t'other one comes," said the boy. "I laid out yonder and heern him, one night. Whistles like he's a mocking-bird, when he gits nigh here. I told Pop an' them about that. They--" "By the way," asked Gavin, "when your Pop came back from finding the tunnel, last night, was he in pretty bad shape? Hey? Was he?" "He were," responded the captive, after another scared look at Simon Cameron. "He done fell into the tunnel, arter he step down it. An' he bust hisself up, suthin' fierce, round the haid an' the th'oat. He--"