After a great deal of effort, the far-from-athletic Simpson succeeded in hoisting it into the coupé. Would he fill up the hole now and close the garage, or was there more to follow? Obviously there was more, for after some further digging and a lot of sighs and mutterings, a second suit case, somewhat smaller, was dragged out and deposited in the car. “That must be all of it,” thought Green Eye. “Eighty thousand dollars in gold doesn’t weigh a ton or fill a coffin.” He was right. At any rate, Simpson’s actions quickly convinced them that he did not intend to remove anything more that night. He looked apprehensively in the direction of the house, and reëntered the garage, where, for some minutes, he again busied himself with the spade. He was filling in the hole. The clash was about due now. Gordon had an inspiration. He had been wondering how Simpson had previously concealed the freshly turned earth, or how he meant to do so now. “I’ll bet he has it fixed so that the excavation appears to have been made for the purpose of sinking one of those underground gasoline tanks!” he told himself. “Very likely he’s got the whole paraphernalia there, and the tank is actually in the ground. That’s what I would have done under the circumstances, at any rate.” As a matter of fact, his guess proved to be a singularly accurate one, for that was just the blind to which Simpson had resorted. The spade had been laid aside now, and the critical moment had arrived. Cray turned to his companion and made a series of quick, expressive gestures. “I’ll tackle him. You be ready to gag him while I hold him,” they said as plainly as words. An instant later, Simpson reappeared in the narrow space between the garage and the car, and, turning his back, started to shut the big, sliding door. That was Jack Cray’s opportunity, and, taking immediate advantage of it, he launched himself full tilt at the thief’s back. CHAPTER XXVI. NOT ON THE PROGRAM. Simpson gave a startled gasp and tried to turn, but Cray’s weight bore him down, and in a trice they were on the ground. Gordon showed himself, and approached as they flopped about for a few moments in that confined space. Suddenly he turned without warning and ran around the corner behind which he had just been hiding. He quickly circled about the tiny garage and approached the struggling men from the other direction. The space had been so narrow that it would have been awkward for him to get at Simpson’s head. Now, however, he could do so without difficulty, and, as he stooped, he had a handkerchief all ready to gag the prisoner. Cray, he found, had Simpson by the throat, and was effectually preventing any outcry, while his great bulk kept the prisoner from squirming out from under him. “Now, give it to him!” Jack muttered, breathing heavily. “He can’t let out a peep.”