"Well!" cried Andy, as he happened to bump against the small table that stood in the center of the room. Its cover rattled off onto the floor. "Hello!" he added in surprise, as he went to pick up the loosened cover, and observed its reverse side. "I say, Phil Warrington, here is mystery on top of mystery!" CHAPTER XI CLOSE QUARTERS "What now?" inquired Phil. "Look for yourself," cried his companion. "House without an owner, ready made fire to order, table with reversible top. What next, I wonder! Why, just that--look." Andy took up the board from the floor and placed it wrong side up on the table frame. Then both boys stood staring down at it most curiously. Tacked to the surface was a large sheet of paper. It seemed to be a map. There was a coast line and various stars and dots which seemed to indicate especial points, like cities or towns. "Why," said Phil slowly, "this looks to me like a map of the state north of Boston. Here's Boston, here's Lowell and Salem,--in fact all the towns grouped around Boston to the north. Queer, isn't it, Andy?" "I should say so. See, here's something more." Andy with his finger nail poked out a small folded paper slip from between tacks which held down the map. He opened this. It was in pencil writing, and it read: "Report from Storm Cove. Goods can be landed. Straight man will answer signal from the ship." "What does this mean, Phil?" inquired Andy, speculative and serious. "It sounds like smuggling, but what the map and the letter are doing in this out of the way place, bless me if I can understand!" and Andy rubbed his head in perplexity. Phil did not reply at once, for his eye, wandering reflectively, had lit on some scraps of paper lying on the hearth, just disclosed as his feet accidentally disturbed a piece of firewood. He stooped and gathered up these fragments with the remark: "Some one has been tearing up a letter. These pieces may tell us something." For fully half-an-hour Phil and Andy tried to piece the paper fragments together, but this they found they could not accomplish, as a part of the torn-up document had evidently been burned in the fire. Many times, however, they deciphered the names of "Gen. Gage," "Boston," "rebels," "spies," and the like. "There is one thing certain," declared Phil finally, "some one in the interest of the British has been in this house. If I ventured a guess, I would say that this is a sort of rendezvous for emissaries of the British. They may make this lonely spot a place to meet and report, exchange notes and receive instructions." "If that's so," cried Andy excitedly, "at any moment a whole nest of Tories may come pouncing down on us!"