"Just a minute," said Mr. Ingles quietly. "Not so fast, young fellow. Let me look again... Seems to me I've seen something like this before... sort of familiar it is... and yet... I don't know that it wasn't done by one of those youngsters..."

And then, with a slap on his knee, he roared------

"I'VE GOT IT, YOUNG TOM. 'TIS A MAP, I'M SURE. This is the top o' the mountain, and that red mark is Hatchholt reservoir, I reckon..."

Tom did not know the top of the mountain, but he remembered what the others had told him about it, and he remembered too the adventures they had had with Mrs. Thurston at Appledore. He decided to tell his uncle the whole story and risk the anger of the others at the breaking of the Club's vow of silence, for Mr. Ingles was looking very interested. So he told everything as quickly as he could.

Mr. Ingles looked up at the sky. "Mist's coming down, lad. See how the top of the Mynd has disappeared. It's going to be a dirty night... But let's have another look at the paper... There are figures here under the owl but I can't rightly see what they are... Let's get inside and light the lamp."

So they went indoors and caught Mrs. Ingles hobbling about with a stick and trying to get their supper. "Reckon you've found something important, young Tom. This is a map of the Mynd all right, and it looks as if the dotted lines lead from Appledore to Hatchholt. Those figures show tomorrow's date, and I'm going off now to telephone my Home Guard officer and tell him what we've found... Betty, me dear, you mustn't mind me going off. Tom must stay and be company for you, and I'll be back as soon as I can - but don't wait up for me, and take care of your foot."

Tom ran for his uncle's old trench-coat hanging behind the door, and went out into the yard with him. In a few minutes the mist had thickened and was now eddying down from the hillsides into the lane. The mountain was nothing but a shadowy bulk, and the white gate wavered in the fading light as Mr. Ingles started up his motor-cycle. He called back something to Tom as he held the gate open, but the boy couldn't hear him properly and so waved vaguely as he disappeared into the fog.