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in the moonlight； lost all sense of direction。
〃We're lost；〃 said Monica； in a low tone。 Unconsciously both were
speaking in whispers。 〃I thought we were following what used to
be the main thoroughfare of the city； but I have never seen this place
before。 From what I have read I think we must be among the tombs
of the kings。〃
She was silenced by Everett placing one hand quickly on her arm；
and with the other pointing。 In the uncertain moonlight she saw
moving cautiously away from them； and unconscious of their
presence； a white； ghostlike figure。
〃Peabody；〃 whispered Everett。
〃Call him；〃 commanded Monica。
〃The others might hear；〃 objected Everett。 〃We must overtake him。
If we're with him when they meet； they wouldn't dare〃
With a gasp of astonishment； his words ceased。
Like a ghost； the ghostlike figure had vanished。
〃He walked through that rock！〃 cried Monica。
Everett caught her by the wrist。 〃Come！〃 he commanded。
Over the face of the rock； into which Peabody had dived as into
water； hung a curtain of vines。 Everett tore it apart。 Concealed
by the vines was the narrow mouth to a tunnel； and from it they
heard； rapidly lessening in the distance； the patter of footsteps。
〃Will you wait；〃 demanded Everett； 〃or come with me？〃
With a shudder of distaste； Monica answered by seizing his hand。
With his free arm Everett swept aside the vines； and； Monica
following； they entered the tunnel。 It was a passageway cleanly
cut through the solid rock and sufficiently wide to permit of their
moving freely。 At the farther end； at a distance of a hundred
yards； it opened into a great vault； also hollowed from the rock
and； as they saw to their surprise； brilliantly lighted。
For an instant； in black silhouette； the figure of Peabody
blocked the entrance to this vault； and then； turning to the
right； again vanished。 Monica felt an untimely desire to laugh。
Now that they were on the track of Peabody she no longer feared
the outcome of the adventure。 In the presence of the American
minister and of herself there would be no violence； and as they
trailed the archaeologist through the tunnel she was reminded of
Alice and her pursuit of the white rabbit。 This thought； and her
sense of relief that the danger was over； caused her to laugh aloud。
They had gained the farther end of the tunnel and the entrance to
the vault； when at once her amusement turned to wonder。 For the
vault showed every evidence of use and of recent occupation。 In
brackets； and burning brightly； were lamps of modern make； on
the stone floor stood a canvas cot； saddle…bags； camp…chairs；
and in the centre of the vault a collapsible table。 On this were
bottles filled with chemicals； trays； and presses such as are used
in developing photographs； and apparently hung there to dry；
swinging from strings； the proofs of many negatives。
Loyal to her brother； Monica exclaimed indignantly。 At the proofs
she pointed an accusing finger。
〃Look！〃 she whispered。 〃This is Peabody's darkroom； where he
develops the flash…lights he takes of the hieroglyphs！ Chester has
a right to be furious！〃
Impulsively she would have pushed past Everett； but with an
exclamation he sprang in front of her。
〃No！〃 he commanded； 〃come away！〃
He had fallen into a sudden panic。 His tone spoke of some
catastrophe； imminent and overwhelming。 Monica followed
the direction of his eyes。 They were staring in fear at the proofs。
The girl leaned forward； and now saw them clearly。
Each was a United States Treasury note for five hundred dollars。
Around the turn of the tunnel； approaching the vault apparently
from another passage； they heard hurrying footsteps； and then；
close to them from the vault itself； the voice of Professor Peabody。
It was harsh； sharp； peremptory。
〃Hands up！〃 it commanded。 〃Drop that gun！〃
As though halted by a precipice； the footsteps fell into instant
silence。 There was a pause； and then the ring of steel upon the
stone floor。 There was another pause； and Monica heard the
voice of her brother。 Broken； as though with running； it still
retained its level accent； its note of insolence。
〃So；〃 it said； 〃I have caught you？〃
Monica struggled toward the lighted vault； but around her Everett
threw his arm。
〃Come away！〃 he begged。
Monica fought against the terror of something unknown。 She could
not understand。 They had come only to prevent a meeting between
her brother and Peabody； and now that they had met； Everett was
endeavoring to escape。
It was incomprehensible。
And the money in the vault； the yellow bills hanging from a
cobweb of strings； why should they terrify her； what did they
threaten？ Dully； and from a distance； Monica heard the voice
of Peabody。
〃No；〃 he answered； 〃I have caught you！ And I've had a hell of a
time doing it！〃
Monica tried to call out； to assure her brother of her presence。
But； as though in a nightmare； she could make no sound。 Fingers
of fear gripped at her throat。 To struggle was no longer possible。
The voice of Peabody continued：
〃Six months ago we traced these bills to New Orleans。 So we guessed
the plant was in Central America。 We knew only one man who could
make them。 When I found you were in Amapala and they said you had
struck 'buried treasure'the rest was easy。〃
Monica heard the voice of her brother answer with a laugh。
〃Easy？〃 he mocked。 〃There's no extradition。 You can't touch me。
You're lucky if you get out of here alive。 I've only to raise my voice〃
〃And； I'll kill you！〃
This was danger Monica could understand。
Freed from the nightmare of doubt； with a cry she ran forward。
She saw Peabody； his back against a wall； a levelled automatic in
his hand； her brother at the entrance to a tunnel like the one from
which she had just appeared。 His arms were raised above his head。
At his feet lay a revolver。 For an instant； with disbelief； he stared
at Monica； and then； as though assured that it was she； his eyes
dilated。 In them were fear and horror。 So genuine was the agony
in the face of the counterfeiter that Everett； who had followed；
turned his own away。 But the eyes of the brother and sister
remained fixed upon each other； hers； appealingly； his； with
despair。 He tried to speak； but the words did not come。 When
he did break the silence his tone was singularly wistful； most
tenderly kind。
〃Did you hear？〃 he asked。
Monica slowly bowed her head。 With the same note of gentleness
her brother persisted：
〃Did you understand？〃
Between them stretched the cobweb of strings hung with yellow
certificates； each calling for five hundred dollars； payable in gold。
Stirred by the night air from the open tunnels； they fluttered and
flaunted。
Against the sight of them； Monica closed her eyes。 Heavily； as
though with a great physical effort； again she bowed her head。
The eyes of her brother searched about him wildly。 They rested on
the mouth of the tunnel。
With his lowered arm he pointed。
〃Who is that？〃 he cried。
Instinctively the others turned。
It was for an instant。 The instant sufficed。
Monica saw her brother throw himself upon the floor； felt herself
flung aside as Everett and the detective leaped upon him； saw her
brother press his hands against his heart； the two men dragging
at his arms。
The cavelike room was shaken with a report； an acrid smoke
assailed her nostrils。 The men ceased struggling。 Her brother lay
still。
Monica sprang toward the body； but a black wave rose and
submerged her。 As she fainted； to save herself she threw out her
arms； and as she fell she dragged down with her the buried
treasure of Cobre。
Stretched upon the stone floor beside her brother； she lay motionless。
Beneath her； and wrapped about and covering her； as the leaves
covered the babes in the wood； was a vast cobweb of yellow bills；
each for five hundred dollars； payable in gold。
A month later the harbor of Porto Cortez in Honduras was shaken
with the roar of cannon。 In comparison； the roaring of all the cannon
of all the revolutions that that distressful country ever had known；
were like fire…crackers under a barrel。
Faithful to his itinerary； the Secretary of State of the United States
was paying his formal visit to Honduras； and the President of that
republic； waiting upon the Fruit Company's wharf to greet him； was
receiving the salute of the American battle…ships。 Back of him； on
the wharf； his own barefooted artillerymen in their turn were saluting；
excitedly and spasmodically； the distinguished visitor。 As an honor
he had at last learned to accept without putting a finger in each ear；
the Secretary of State smiled with gracious calm。 Less calm was the
President of Honduras。 He knew something the Secretary did not
know。 He knew that at any moment a gun of his saluting battery
might turn turtle； or blow into the harbor himself； his cabinet； and
the larger part of his standing army。
Made fast to the wharf on the side opposite to the one at which
the Secretary had landed was one of the Fruit Company's steamers。
She was on her way north； and Porto Cortez was a port of call。
That her passengers might