Pickering stepped to the door and called the sheriff. “I shall give you until to-morrow morning at nine o’clock to vacate the premises. The court understands this situation perfectly. These claims are utterly worthless, as I am ready to prove.” “Perfectly, perfectly,” repeated the sheriff. “I believe that is all,” said Larry, pointing to the door with his pipe. The sheriff was regarding him with particular attention. “What did I understand your name to be?” he demanded. “Laurance Donovan,” Larry replied coolly. Pickering seemed to notice the name now and his eyes lighted disagreeably. “I think I have heard of your friend before,” he said, turning to me. “I congratulate you on the international reputation of your counsel. He’s esteemed so highly in Ireland that they offer a large reward for his return. Sheriff, I think we have finished our business for to-day.” He seemed anxious to get the man away, and we gave them escort to the outer gate where a horse and buggy were waiting. “Now, I’m in for it,” said Larry, as I locked the gate. “We’ve spiked one of his guns, but I’ve given him a new one to use against myself. But come, and I will show you the Door of Bewilderment before I skip.” CHAPTER XXIV A PROWLER OF THE NIGHT Down we plunged into the cellar, through the trap and to the Door of Bewilderment. “Don’t expect too much,” admonished Larry; “I can’t promise you a single Spanish coin.” “Perish the ambition! We have blocked Pickering’s game, and nothing else matters,” I said. We crawled through the hole in the wall and lighted candles. The room was about seven feet square. At the farther end was an oblong wooden door, close to the ceiling, and Larry tugged at the fastening until it came down, bringing with it a mass of snow and leaves. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we are at the edge of the ravine. Do you see the blue sky? And yonder, if you will twist your necks a bit, is the boat-house.” “Well, let the scenic effects go and show us where you found those papers,” I urged. “Speaking of mysteries, that is where I throw up my hands, lads. It’s quickly told. Here is a table, and here is a tin despatch box, which lies just where I found it. It was closed and the key was in the lock. I took out that packet—it wasn’t even sealed—saw the character of the contents, and couldn’t resist the temptation to try the effect of an announcement of its discovery on your friend Pickering. Now that is nearly all. I found this piece of paper under the tape with which the envelope was tied, and I don’t hesitate to say that when I read it I laughed until I thought I should shake down the cellar. Read it, John Glenarm!” He handed me a sheet of legal-cap paper on which was written these words: HE LAUGHS BEST WHO LAUGHS LAST “What do you think is so funny in this?” I demanded. “Who wrote it, do you think?” asked Stoddard.