The two comrades then left the warm shelter of the curious little restaurant. Outside it was misting heavily, but little did they mind it, as they were warm and dry and well-fed. Indeed, they were now doubly anxious to make an end of their strange adventure. "Herr Scheff was a very uncommunicative old bird," remarked Jim, dryly, as they trudged over the wet, heavy sand towards the cliffs. "Just what was to be expected," replied John Berwick; "you might just as well try to get water out of the Sahara as information out of Herr Fritz. He would give the devil a meal as quick as he would a parson and ask no questions for conscience' sake. You would never find out that he had ever entertained either. That's business with that class, you know." "Business be hanged, then!" exclaimed Jim hotly. "I bet anything that the poor man we found murdered in the gulch up here did get a meal from him." "Certainly," replied the engineer coolly; "and what's more, he knows a whole lot about the gang that infests that castle on the cliff." "Well, the old clam can keep his information," remarked Jim. "I propose to find out for myself what these rascals are up to. That's the only way." "You are right there, Jim," replied Berwick. "We want to go a little careful now," remarked Jim, as they came to the mouth of Dead Man's Gulch. Noiselessly the two comrades climbed up the dark cleft, over the slippery rocks, until Jim came to a halt. "That man isn't here now, John," he said in a low voice. "They've sneaked him off while we were below," remarked the engineer. "It behooves us to be on the lookout." Somehow, the disappearance of the body of the dead man seemed to give a sense of danger that was everywhere present in the darkness, as if their enemies, though elusive, were near at hand. "Well, here we are," exclaimed Jim, with a breath of satisfaction, as they reached the tall fence surrounding the castle on the bluff. CHAPTER XVIII THE RECONNOITER "It seems to me that we are only where we were before," said the chief engineer, in a low voice. "We won't be there much longer," remarked Jim, with determination; "follow your leader, and look out for the dog; he bites." This time James Darlington took a new tack, crawling along in the opposite direction from the big gate and keeping well hidden. Followed by John Berwick, he went cautiously along for a distance of a hundred yards, and then Jim halted, and with very good reason, for he had come to the edge of the cliff, but not exactly to the end of the fence. There was an iron obstruction in the way, that barred them from getting further. It was a fan-like spread of sharp iron spikes, such as you sometimes see in these days, separating the roofs of adjoining tenements on the Island of Manhattan. It appeared an impassable obstacle and indeed it was, as the powerful Jim and the agile engineer had to admit after a careful investigation.