Fitzgerald finished his cigar, and went to bed also. "Interesting old
place," wadding a pillow under his ear. "More interesting to-morrow."

Some time earlier, the individual who was the cause of this nocturnal
exploit hurried down the hill, nursing a pair of skinned palms, and
laughing gently to himself.

"Checkmate! I shall try the other way."

On the morrow, Fitzgerald recounted the adventure in a semi-humorous
fashion, making a brisk melodrama out of it, to the quiet amusement of
his small audience.

"I shall send for the mason this morning," said the admiral. "I've
been dreaming of _The Black Cat_ and all sorts of horrible things. I
hate like sixty to spoil the old chimney, but we can't have this going
on. We'll have it down at once. A fire these days is only a nice
touch to the mahogany."

"But you must tell him to put back every brick in its place," said
Laura. "I could not bear to have anything happen to that chimney. All
the same, I am glad the matter is going to be cleared up. It has been
nerve-racking; and I have been all alone, waiting for I know not what."

"You haven't been afraid?" said Fitzgerald.

"I'm not sure that I haven't." She sighed.

"Nonsense!" cried the admiral.