"Old fellow!" burst out Silver, clutching Jack by the arm; "you look as if you'd seen a ghost! What in the world's all this rot? You don't mean to say—"
"Mean to say!" cried Jack, suddenly coming to life. "Look here, Silver—I'll tell you the truth. This letter's from a couple of low-down crooks who've got hold of Billy some way or other, and if we don't look out he'll be—"
"You mean he's been kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped—yes. Come along to our study, old chap, and we'll see what we can think out. I tell you, it's an ugly hole, and I'm a good bit scared!"
Silver followed Jack to Study No. 9, where Fane and Patch were already ensconced. The ominous note from Lazare was passed around, and the four sat down together to consider what would be their course of action. Silver, of course, wanted to know a great many things all at once, but he got, at least, an inkling of the ill-fated Black Star and what had already happened during that memorable term.
"Well, comrades," said Patch, "we've just got to do something! I've been thinking. First of all, we go to the Head, and make a confession of everything we know. Then, we'll have to get Doctor Daw arrested—he thinks we haven't got anything against him, but we know enough to get him hooked for conspiracy! That should put him out of the road. Then—"
He paused and considered.
Jack remembered something. "Oh, I've got another stunt that may be of use! You know that cave on Dog-face? I've always thought that that's where Humbolt was hiding—and probably Lazare as well. Now, if that's so, then we ought to find Billy there."
"Good for you, Jack!" cried Patch. "It should be worth trying, at any rate. We could sneak over and hold the beggars up—nab them. That would just settle things handsomely, but I don't know whether we'd be able—"
"Wouldn't we?" demanded Fane, fiercely. "If Billy's there, on Dog-face, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't row over and get him back!"
"Humbolt's got a gun, and he might use it."
"No matter. There's Billy's pistol here, and we'd have everything in our favour. We could creep in on the beggars late at night, when they're asleep—!"
"Well, if boldness counts for anything, the scheme ought to be a good one. But—"
"Another thing is, if we don't do that, what on earth are we going to do? If Jack calmly hands over the Star, we've no guarantee that Billy's going to be let go free again! With giddy criminals like Lazare and that other fellow, goodness knows what might happen. Why, they might even shut Billy's mouth by—well, throwing him into the bay—anything.
"If we try to nab the chap when he meets Jack, he'd probably smell a rat, and do what he says! Or put a bullet into Jack—I wouldn't trust the beggars a foot, and that's a fact! The only way is to hop into them when they're not looking; and the trip to Dog-face looks good to me."
Patch considered, rubbing his chin with his forefinger. He took off his spectacles and polished them.
Then, "It's a risk," he said. "But, now you put it that way, I reckon we can't do anything else! If we collar Billy and get away with him, then the other fellows could wait till afterwards, see? The police could be put on their track, and, depend upon it, they'd be grabbed sooner or later. But once we've got Billy safe, we can tell them to go and eat coke!"
"Of course we could; we'd have the whip hand over them. My opinion is—make the trip to Dog-face now—or very soon—and tell the Head nothing about it."
"Why not?"
"Well, simply because, if we tell the Head, he won't let us go."
Patch seemed to ponder this statement for a minute. "Yes," he said at last, "that's true enough. The Head would forbid it, and get some blundering bobby to take the job on. Look here—who will go?"
"The lot of us," said Jack decisively. "I suppose Silver's on, aren't you?"
"Sure thing," said Silver quietly. "We can get a skiff out of the sheds. I have the key—and sneak out along the edge of the bay. It wouldn't do if we were to strike out boldly for Dog-face! We'd be spotted pretty quickly. But what are our plans?"
"We'll see, comrade. First of all, we'll have to reconnoitre. Then we'll make sure of our attack. I've got an idea—we won't go until about two o'clock in the morning. If they've got a watch out at that time, then all I can say is, they're pretty cautious!"
And so, finally, it was arranged. The conspirators went to bed early that night—and they awoke early the next morning. At five minutes past one, to be precise, the little band of four cautiously left the school grounds and presently came to the river, where they launched a skiff on the softly-lapping water.
It was an adventure that was as wine to the spirit of Jack Symonds and his pals. They were strung to a high pitch of keenness, by the thought of Billy Faraday and what was happening to him; and if there was a trace of nervousness, the darkness of the night and the danger of the venture might have excused it.
Out they rowed into the bay, hugging the shore closely, as they turned in the direction of Dog-face. The skiff crept along almost without sound; there was the ruffle of parted waters, and the subdued grumbling of the oars in the row-locks. Despite this, they made progress; and soon the black bulk of Dog-face lay blotted against the stars.
"Softly now," said Jack Symonds. "Quit rowing—we'll drift there. The tide is just right, fortunately. Easy."
In breathless silence the skiff drifted down on Dog-face. There was much starlight, and there was no knowing whether they were being observed or not. At any moment there might ring out a challenge, or perhaps they might be fired upon, and no questions asked. It was a nerve-testing time.
Finally, the keel grated on shingle; the slight sound was swallowed up in the wash of tiny waves on Dog-face. Patch leapt out, and after a minute or so of whispering it was decided to leave Silver in the boat, ready to push her out and pull for the College. The boat was backed into the beach again so that her stern rested lightly on the shingle; Silver, paddling softly, kept her nose pointed away from the shore.
Then, the three others stole quietly away. Nothing was left to chance; they took ten minutes to approach the entrance to the cave, using the utmost caution, striving to make only the most infinitesimal sounds.
At the mouth they listened for a long, long time; but they could hear nothing.
"We'll just have to chance it," Patch whispered in Jack's ear. "We'll have to go right in. You've got the pistol—let me take the torch and go first. You be ready to let fly if anything happens." Fane gripping a cricket-stump in the manner of a club, brought up the rear.
It needed a fine nerve to enter that noisome cave, at dead of night, and not knowing what dangers attended the act. But the three pals did not hesitate at all. They slipped inside; all was perfectly quiet.
It suddenly occurred to Patch that perhaps they had been wrong from the outset—perhaps their whole supposition was at fault. That would account for the silence—there was nobody here.
"Soon settle that," he murmured. "Ready, Jack?"
"You bet." Jack's voice came back in an unfaltering whisper. He gripped the revolver tightly; he could not deny that it lent him confidence.
Patch pressed over the switch of the electric torch, and swept the cave with light. The place was bare of any occupant. Only, in one corner, what looked like a bundle of rags lay humped up; and Patch tiptoed across.
"Billy!" he said softly. And it was indeed Billy himself. They shook him by the shoulder, heartily glad that he was alive and soon to be at liberty.
He opened his eyes, and stared for a moment without comprehension. Then, "You chaps!" he said. "This is great! I never thought—here, cut off these things."
They snicked the cords that bound, and he stood up, rubbing his cramped limbs, and shaking them all by the hand.
"Jingo, but you're dinkum pals," he said. "I thought they had us beaten, but—"
"Who is it?" asked Patch. "Lazare and Humbolt?"
Billy nodded. "Yes, the brutes! They tried torturing me, and they got the information they wanted—I said that Jack had the Star. I had to—they made me."
Billy smiled a wry sort of smile. "They've got a little motor-launch, too, and I suppose they thought I was safe enough here. But they may be back at any moment. We'd better clear."
"True for you," said Jack; and the four of them got out of the cave into the faint starlight. "Phew! I can't say that the merry old cave is exactly—"
There was a sudden blaze of light, and he stopped short.
"You will put your hands up, and drop that gun," said a strange voice. "Look sharp!"
Under the menace of a heavy revolver Jack had to drop his own weapon. He almost groaned with despair. Just at the moment of their triumph, Humbolt had returned, and, what was worse, he had already got the upper hand.
Helpless, the little quartette of schoolboys faced the grinning Tiger, who was clearly enjoying his victory to the full.
"Thought you were clever, eh?" asked Tiger, in a sneering voice. "You're a lot of fools, that's all, and you've put your foot in it this time, let me tell you." He turned to Billy. "Well, my young spark, is the chap that hid the Star among this lot?"
"He is," returned Jack quietly. "Look here, my good fellow, we're sick and tired of hanging on to the rotten old Star. You've got us beaten now, haven't you? If I promise to bring the Star right back with me, you won't harm me or my friends here?"
"No," said Tiger, shortly. "Provided you stick to your part of the bargain."
Jack was very much at his ease by now, but he was thinking with lightning rapidity, and trying to remember something that the old gentleman had told him on the night of the boxing in Windsor about this very Humbolt. Ah, he had it!
"Yes," he pursued, shivering, "this place gives me the creeps, and I wish we'd never had anything to do with the Star. Why, we nearly got bitten by a snake coming up here—"
"What!" said Humbolt, sharply.
"Yes, a great big black snake, and it ran into that crack you're standing on now. A whopper, it was—"
Jack had staked everything on that throw. He had remembered in time what he had been told about "Jim Camp's peculiar horror of snakes," and desperately he brought the subject into the conversation.
It was amazingly successful. At the first mention of snakes, Humbolt had looked distinctly uneasy. But when Jack added that the reptile had sought refuge in the ground at his feet, the outwitted man could not resist a long, searching glance at the fissure referred to.
It was his undoing. Jack Symonds was ready; and, like some splendid machine, touched off in an instant, he sprang through the air and crashed heavily upon Humbolt.
Taken by surprise, Tiger's grip upon his weapon naturally relaxed, and the impact sent it flying a dozen feet away. But he was too strong, too solid, to go to the earth. He stood and wrestled furiously. Jack grabbed the man's arms and tried to prevent him from getting in a blow, for he had seen the effect of Humbolt's hitting, and had no desire to be hit himself.
The man was very strong, a very pocket Hercules. And Jack, athletic as he was, felt himself gradually being overmastered. The thick, short arms struggled in his hold; one got free, and Jack felt it drawn back, and waited, heart in mouth, for the sickening thump—but it never came.
Instead, Humbolt staggered, gave a groan, and Jack saw that he was falling. Hastily he glanced up and saw Fane surveying his cricket-stump ruefully.
"I'm sorry I hit from behind," the latter said, "but the beggar was out to spifflicate you. I banged him on the head."
"Good man—don't apologize," said Jack, with immense cheerfulness. "Come on—cut!"
Even as Jack jumped away, Humbolt, dazed as he was, made a blind grab at his legs. The man's tenacity was admirable; he was possessed of the instincts of a bulldog-ant. And, seeing his late captives, escaping, he roared out at the full pitch of his lungs.
"Lazare! Quick! Help! Lazare!"
So Lazare was somewhere handy, then! Or was it only a bluff? Bluff or not, they raced madly for the skiff, calling out to Silver as they ran; and after a brief, rocky journey, came upon the shingle-beach and the boat.
Everything worked with silken smoothness. The four boys packed into the boat, taking an oar each, while Patch made ready to steer.
"Six good ones," said Silver; and Jack, with the best oar in Deepwater College beside him, was strangely thrilled. He put lots of weight and pull into those six strokes, and the skiff shot out from under the black shadow of Dog-face across the smooth, tinkling water. A breath of sea-breeze fanned their faces.
"We've done them!" said Jack, delightedly. "After all—and I thought we'd regularly slipped when Humbolt caught us!"
"Don't be so sure," said Patch. "Listen."
"What?"
The next moment his question was answered. There came the muffled pop-pop-popping of a motor-boat exhaust, and a white speck suddenly shot into view, around one of the capes of Dog-face Island!