But the fifth was a stranger--a tall man who stood between Mitchington and the Duke, evidently paying anxious attention to the master-mason's proceedings.

He was no Wrychester man--Bryce was convinced of that.
And a moment later he was convinced of another equally certain fact.
Whatever these five men were searching for, they had no clear or accurate idea of its exact whereabouts.

The master-mason was taking up the small squares of flagstone with his crowbar one by one, from the outer edge of the foot of the old box-tomb; as he removed each, he probed the earth beneath it.

And Bryce, who had instinctively realized what was happening, and knew that somebody else than himself was in possession of the secret of the scrap of paper, saw that it would be some time before they arrived at the precise spot indicated in the Latin directions.

He quietly drew back and tugged at Dick Bewery.
"Stop here, and keep quiet!" he whispered when they had retreated out of all danger of being overheard.