soon lost to view in the shadows of the house.
With the uproar growing in volume behind them, they fled for the shelter of the building. It was their only refuge. If they attempted to escape to the road they would be almost certain of meeting some of the smugglers. They could not go back down the passageway. If they retreated they would be driven to the verge of the cliff.
Fenton Hardy sped around to the back door and flung it open. The fugitives raced into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.
Out of the darkness came a frightened voice.
"Who's there?"
It was so sudden and unexpected that their pulses leaped.
They made no answer.
"Who's there, I say? Is it you, Redhead?"
Still they did not reply. Fenton Hardy crept through the darkness in the direction of the voice.
"Speak! Quick! Speak, or I'll fire!"
The boys heard a sudden, scrambling sound. Their father had thrown himself upon the other man. The boys rushed in on the two struggling figures.
There was a deafening roar and a streak of flame. The man of the house had been armed with a shotgun, and in the struggle it had exploded.
