She glanced at Jack, as if intending the suggestion to apply to him. But Ella clung to his arm, which perhaps prevented him from moving with the speed which might have been expected. "Will no one go?" cried Madge. "Why, then, I'll go myself." But that Bruce Graham would not permit. Swiftly depositing his still unconscious burden on Ella's bed, he went in search of the required tools, returning almost as soon as he had gone. "I think, Miss Brodie, that perhaps you had better allow me to try my hand. I am stronger than you." She gave way to him unhesitatingly. "Drive the chisel into the wall and see if it is hollow." He did as she bade him. A couple of blows put the thing beyond a doubt. The chisel disappeared up to the hilt through what was evidently but an outer shell. Madge continued to issue her instructions. "Break the wall in! It's no use fumbling with dogs' head in search of hidden springs--with us it's a case of the shortest road's the best. Whatever's inside that wall has been there long enough to excuse us if we're a little neglectful of ceremonious observances." In a few minutes the wall was broken in, the ancient woodwork offering no resistance to Bruce Graham's vigorous onslaught. A cavity was made large enough to thrust one's head in. Madge stopped him. "That'll do--for the present! Now let's see what there is inside!" She went down on her knees the better to enable her to see, Graham moving aside to give her room. She thrust her fair young face as far into the opening as she could get it--only to discover that she was obscuring her own light. Out it came again. "Give me a light--a match, or something. It's as dark as pitch in there." Graham gave her a box of matches. Striking one, she introduced it into what was as the heart of the wall. "There is something in there!" She dropped the match. Fortunately it went out as it fell. "It's the hidden fortune!" She gave a gasp. Then in an instant she was on her feet and was hastening towards the recumbent figure on the bed. The woman still lay motionless. Madge, bending down, caught her by the shoulder, forgetful of all in her desire to impart the amazing news. "Your husband's fortune's in the wall--we've found it there." Something on the woman's face, in her utter stillness, seemed to fill her with new alarm. She called to the others. "Ella!--Mr. Graham! Jack!" Her voice sank to a whisper; there was a catching of her breath. "Is she dead?" They came hastening towards her. Jack Martyn, stopping halfway, looking round, startled them with a fresh inquiry, to which he himself supplied the answer. "By George!--I say!--where's Ballingall?--Why, he's gone!" CHAPTER XIX THE WOMAN AND THE MAN Yes--the woman was dead. Ballingall had gone--and the fortune was found. Put in that way, it was a curious sequence of events.