Kitabı oku: «The Secret of the Reef», sayfa 17

CHAPTER XXX – THE LAST OF THE WRECK

Thick fog lay upon the water when Jimmy wakened. He slipped off the locker and, standing with his bent head among the deckbeams, looked at Bethune with heavy eyes.

“Is it dark?” he asked. “How long have I slept?”

“It is not dark yet. How do you feel?”

“I think I’m all right. Did you get the case?”

“Sure!” smiled Bethune. “It’s safe under the floorings and heavy enough to make the salvage worth having. But I came down to bring you this note from Aynsley. One of his men brought it and his gig’s waiting alongside.”

Jimmy opened the note and read it aloud in the dim light of the cabin.

“I shall consider it a favor if you will come across at once. My father seems very ill and he insists on seeing you.”

“I’d better go,” Jimmy said. “After all, we couldn’t have got the case without his help, and, in a way, I’m sorry for him. He must have known he was running a big risk, but he was very plucky.”

“It can’t do much harm,” Bethune agreed. “Somehow I feel that we have nothing more to fear from him. For all that, I wish I could go with you.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t do,” said Jimmy thoughtfully.

“No; you can’t take your lawyer along when you visit a sick man. Still, if he’s not quite as bad as Aynsley thinks, you may as well be on your guard.”

Jimmy got into the waiting boat and the men plied the oars rhythmically. A bank of clammy fog rested on the slate-green heave that moved in from seaward in slow undulations. The damp condensed on the boat’s thwarts and her knees were beaded with moisture. The air felt strangely raw, and the measured beat of the surf rose drearily from the hidden beach. At intervals the tolling of a bell sounded through the noises of the sea; and when the yacht appeared, looming up gray and ghostly, her rigging dripped, her deck was sloppy, and the seamen at the gangway had a limp, bedraggled look. Everything seemed cheerless and depressing; and Aynsley’s face was anxious as he hurried toward Jimmy.

“It was good of you to come,” he said. “I hope you’re none the worse.”

“Not much. I’m sorry your father has suffered from the trip, but I really did my best.”

“I’m sure of that,” Aynsley responded. “But he’s waiting to see you.”

He led Jimmy into a handsome teak deckhouse between the masts, and opened a door into the owner’s cabin, which occupied the full width of the house. Two electric lamps were burning, rich curtains were drawn across the windows to shut out the foggy light, and a fire burned cheerfully in an open-fronted stove, encased in decorated tiles. Its pipe was of polished brass; the walls and the ceiling were enameled a spotless white, with the moldings of the beams picked out in harmonious color; two good marine pictures hung on the cross bulkhead. The place struck Jimmy as being strangely luxurious after the cramped, damp cabin of the sloop; but he soon forgot his surroundings when his eyes rested on the figure lying in the corner-berth.

Clay had thrown off the coverings and was propped up on two large pillows. His silk pajamas showed the massiveness of his short neck and his powerful chest and arms; but his face was pinched and gray except where it was streaked with a faint purple tinge. Jimmy could see that the man was very ill.

“I hear you got the case,” Clay began in a strained voice, motioning Jimmy to a seat.

“Yes. The others brought it up; I haven’t examined it yet.”

“You’ll find it all right.” Clay smiled weakly. “I suppose you know there’s another case and a couple of small packages still in the strong-room?”

“We understood so.”

“Get them up; they’re in the sand. You can have my diver, and it shouldn’t take you long. You’re welcome to the salvage; it isn’t worth fighting you about. After that, there will be nothing left in her. I give you my word for it, and you can clear out when you like.”

“None of us wants to stay; we have had enough. I suppose you have no idea of going down again?”

“No,” Clay answered rather grimly; “it doesn’t seem probable. I haven’t thanked you yet for bringing me up.” He turned to Aynsley. “Mr. Farquhar stuck to me when I was half conscious and helpless. I’d like you to remember that. Now I want a quiet talk with him.”

Aynsley left them, and Clay was silent for a moment or two. He lay back on the pillows with his eyes closed, and when he spoke it seemed to be with an effort.

“About the bogus case? What are you going to do with it?”

“We have been too busy to think of that. You spoke of an exchange, but of course we haven’t the thing here – ”

“No,” said Clay. “Your partner’s pretty smart and I guess you have got it safely locked up in one of the Island ports. The chances are that you won’t be able to give it to me.”

Jimmy understood him. Clay seemed to know that he was very ill. He lay quiet again, as if it tired him to talk.

“It has been a straight fight on your side,” he resumed after his short rest. “I guess you might give that box to Osborne. You’re white men, and, though you might perhaps make trouble about it, the thing’s no use to you. You know Osborne?”

“Yes,” Jimmy answered rather awkwardly, because he saw what the question implied. Clay had judged him correctly; for Jimmy had no wish to extort a price for keeping a dark secret. He thought he could answer for his comrades, though he would not make a binding promise without their consent.

“I believe you know Ruth Osborne,” Clay went on with a searching glance at him.

Jimmy was taken off his guard, and Clay noticed his slight start and change of expression.

“I met Miss Osborne on board the Empress,” he replied cautiously.

Clay smiled.

“Well,” he said, “she’s a girl who makes an impression, and my notion is that her character matches her looks.” He paused and went on with a thoughtful air: “Anyhow, she wouldn’t have Aynsley.”

Jimmy colored. Clay’s manner was significant, but not hostile. Ill as the man was, Jimmy imagined that he was cleverly playing a game, and, with some object, was trying to turn his recent opponent into an ally. For all that, Jimmy thought his motive was good.

“I mustn’t keep you talking too long,” Jimmy said. He did not wish to discuss Miss Osborne.

“I soon get tired; but there’s something I must mention. You’ll clean the wreck out in a few hours, and then you may as well blow her up. My diver will help you, and we have some high-grade powder and a firing outfit.”

“It might be wise. If she washed up nearer the bight she would be dangerous. The island’s charted, and I dare say vessels now and then run in.”

Clay looked at him with a faint twinkle.

“Yes; I think we can take it that she’s a danger. I’ll tell my man to give you the truck you want and you had better get finished while the weather’s fine.”

Moving feebly, he held out his hand in sign of dismissal, and Jimmy took it. He had no repugnance to doing so, but he felt that he was making his helpless enemy a promise.

Aynsley was waiting on deck and insisted on Jimmy’s staying to dinner. Although well served, it was a melancholy meal, and Jimmy had a sense of loneliness as he sat at the long table. Aynsley was attentive to his comfort and tried to make conversation, but he was obviously depressed.

“What are your plans?” he asked.

“We start to get out the last of the gold at daybreak,” Jimmy answered. “If we’re fortunate, it should take only three or four hours.”

“And then?”

“I agreed with your father that we had better blow up the wreck.”

“You should get that done before dark to-morrow.”

“I think so, if the water keeps smooth. In fact, I dare say we’ll have finished in the afternoon.”

“That’s a relief,” declared Aynsley. “Perhaps I’m not tactful in reminding you that I don’t know – and don’t want to know – what your business with my father is, but he’s seriously ill, and we ought to get away at once in order to put him in a good doctor’s hands as soon as possible. The trouble is that he won’t hear of our leaving until you have completed the job.”

“We’ll lose no time,” Jimmy assured him. “The glass is dropping, but I don’t expect much wind just yet.”

“Thanks!” Aynsley responded with deep feeling. “There’s another thing – if the wind’s light or unfavorable, we’ll start under steam and could tow you south as long as it keeps fine. It may save you a few days. And you could stay with us if your friends can spare you. To tell the truth, it would be a kindness to me. I’m worried, and want somebody to talk to.”

Jimmy agreed, and was shortly afterward rowed back to the sloop.

By noon the next day they had brought up the last of the gold. After a hasty luncheon, they went down again, but their next task took some time, because the diver insisted on clamping the charges of dynamite firmly to the principal timbers and boring holes in some. Then a series of wires had to be taken below and coupled, and it was nearly supper time when Jimmy came up from his last descent.

A faint breeze flecked the leaden water with ripples too languid to break on the sloop’s bows; the island was wrapped in fog, and the swell was gentle. Only a dull murmur rose from the hidden beach. To seaward it was clearer and the yacht rode, a long white shape, lifting her bows with a slow and rhythmic swing, while a gray cloud that spread in a hazy smear rose nearly straight up from her funnel. The sloop’s cable was hove short and everything was ready for departure. Her crew sat in the cockpit watching the diver fit the wires to the contact-plug of the firing battery.

The men on the sloop were filled with keen impatience. They had borne many hardships and perils in those lonely waters, and, now that their work was finished, they wanted to get away. There was a mystery connected with the wreck, but they thought they would never unravel it, and, on the whole, they had no wish to try. They were anxious to see the end of her and to leave the fog-wrapped island.

“I guess we’re all ready,” the diver said at last. “See that you have left nothing loose to fall overboard: she’ll shift some water.”

He inserted the firing-plug; and a moment afterward the sea opened some distance ahead and rolled back from a gap in the bottom of which shattered timber churned about. Then a foaming wave rose suddenly from the chasm, tossing up black masses of planking and ponderous beams. A few, rearing on end, shot out of the water and fell with a heavy splash among fountains of spray, while a white ridge swept furiously toward the sloop. It broke before it reached her, but she flung her bows high as she plunged over the troubled swell, and the yacht rolled heavily with a yeasty wash along her side.

Jimmy ran forward with a sense of keen satisfaction to break out the anchor. The powerful charge had done its work; the wreck had gone.

While the Cetacea drifted slowly with the stream the yacht’s windlass began to clank, and a few minutes later she steamed toward the smaller craft. Her gig brought off a hawser, and a message inviting Jimmy to come on board. As soon as he reached her deck the gig was run up to the davits and the throb of engines quickened. The sloop, swinging into line astern, followed along the screw-cut wake, and in half an hour the fog-bank about the island faded out of sight.

Jimmy felt more cheerful when he dined with Aynsley in the saloon. The depression that had rested on them all seemed to have been lifted with the disappearance of the wreck. Even Clay appeared to be brighter. He sent a request for Jimmy to come to him as soon as he finished dinner.

When Jimmy entered the cabin, Clay lay in his berth, comfortably raised on pillows. He gave Jimmy a friendly nod.

“She’s gone? You made a good job?”

“Yes,” Jimmy answered cheerfully. “We didn’t spare the dynamite.”

Clay beckoned him forward, and, reaching out awkwardly to a small table by his berth, took up a glass of champagne. Another stood near it, ready filled.

“I make a bad host and soon get tired, but Aynsley will do his best for you,” he said cordially. He smiled and raised his glass. “Good luck to you; you’re a white man!”

Jimmy drained his glass, and took Clay’s from his shaking hand. When the elder man thanked him with a gesture, Jimmy saw that he was too ill to talk, and he went out quietly and joined Aynsley on deck.

He spent three days on board the yacht, which steamed steadily south, but late on the fourth night a steward awakened him.

“It’s blowing fresh, sir,” he said. “The captain thought you’d like to know your boat’s towing very wild and he can’t hold on to her long.”

Jimmy had been prepared for such an emergency, and he was on deck in five minutes, fully dressed with his sea-boots and slickers on; and Aynsley joined him in the lee of the deckhouse with a pilot coat over his pajamas. The engines were turning slowly, and the rolling of the yacht and the showers of spray showed that the sea was getting up.

“They’re launching the gig,” Aynsley said. “I wish we could keep you, but I suppose your friends need you?”

“Thanks! They couldn’t navigate her home.”

Jimmy ran toward the bulwarks and shouted to a group of seamen:

“Don’t bother with that ladder, boys!”

Somebody lighted a blue flare on the deckhouse top, and the strong light showed the gig lurching on the broken heave on the yacht’s lee side. Near by, theCetacea lay plunging with her staysail up, while a dark figure on her deck flashed a lantern. Jimmy shook hands with Aynsley and sprang up on the rail; then, leaning out, seized a davit-fall and slid swiftly down. A man released the tackle-hook and pushed off the gig; the oars splashed and a sea swept her away from the yacht. In a few minutes Jimmy jumped on board the sloop and helped Moran to cast off the hawser while the gig struggled back. Another flare was burning, and he saw the boat hoisted in. Then the blaze sank down and, with a farewell blast of her whistle, the steamer vanished into the dark.

Spray leaped about the rolling sloop, her low deck was swept by the hurling sea, and a tangle of hard, wet ropes swung about the mast.

“We’ve double-reefed the mainsail and bent on the storm-jib,” Moran said, above the noise of the sea. “She’ll carry that lot with the wind on her quarter.”

“She ought to,” replied Jimmy. “Up with the throat!”

Fumbling in the dark, they hoisted the thrashing sail, and when the Cetacea listed down until her rail was in the foam Jimmy went aft to relieve Bethune at the helm.

“She’ll make a short passage if this breeze holds,” he said cheerfully. “As I’ve had three nights’ good sleep, I’ll take the first watch.”

While the sloop was driving wildly south before the following seas, or beating slowly in long tacks when the breeze fell light and drew ahead, the yacht skimmed over the water at her best speed; and one gray morning she steamed up Puget Sound, and a low blast of her whistle rang dolefully as she passed Osborne’s house. Clay had made his last voyage; she brought his lifeless body home.

CHAPTER XXXI – A GIFT FROM THE DEAD

Jimmy and his companions sat on the balcony formed by the flat roof of the veranda in front of Jaques’ store. It was a fine evening and a light breeze stirred the dust in the streets of the wooden town. Beyond the ugly, square-fronted buildings that straggled down to the wharf, the water lay shining in the evening light, and through a gap the sloop showed up distinctly, riding in the harbor mouth. On the other hand, a blaze of crimson burned above the crest of a hill and the ragged pines stood out harshly sharp against the glow. Work was over for the day, and groups of men lounged in chairs on the sidewalks outside the hotels, while here and there a citizen and his family occupied the stoop of his dwelling.

Jimmy had briefly related their adventures in the North, though nothing had yet been said about the party’s future plans. Now, however, Jaques and his wife were waiting to discuss them.

“Clay must have died soon after you left the yacht,” the storekeeper said. “As you believe his son is friendly, we have no opposition to fear; and we may as well settle what is to be done.”

“Bethune is our business manager,” Jimmy said. “Perhaps he will give us his opinion.”

Bethune leaned forward with a thoughtful air.

“In the first place, the matter is not so simple as it looks. We don’t know the whole story of the wreck, and I’m inclined to think we’ll never learn it. On the other hand, there’s much to be guessed, and one could form a theory which would be rather hard to contradict. In fact, except for certain prejudices, I believe we could make some money out of it.”

“You can call them prejudices, if you like,” Mrs. Jaques broke in. “For all that, it would be wiser to act up to them.”

“It’s possible,” Bethune agreed. “Just the same, we’re in a rather responsible position.”

“I’m a trader,” Jaques remarked. “I want a fair profit on the money I lay out; but I stop at that. All the money I take is for value supplied.”

Jaques turned to Jimmy.

“Now that we’re talking about it, did you see where Clay got that case?”

“I didn’t; nor did anybody else. We were too busy to trouble about examining the hole he crawled into. I suppose there must have been a space between the top of the strong-room and the floor of the poop cabin.”

“It’s a curious place to stow a box of gold. You can understand their putting the sham case in the strong-room if they meant to wreck the boat; but then why didn’t they ship the genuine stuff by another vessel?”

“That,” said Bethune, smiling, “is the point where my theory breaks down. The only explanation I can think of seems too far-fetched to mention.”

“We will let it go,” Mrs. Jaques interposed quickly. “What do you suggest doing with the gold you brought home?”

“We’ll take it to the underwriters and press for all the salvage we can get. If they’re not inclined to be liberal, we’ll go to court.”

“And the sham box? Will you give them that?” Mrs. Jaques asked.

Jimmy had been expecting the question, and he saw that he must speak. He knew that a fraud had been plotted in connection with the wreck; but it was not his business to investigate the matter. He admitted that this view might be challenged, but he was determined to act upon it. Suspicion rested on Osborne; but Jimmy had made up his mind that, whatever happened, Ruth should not suffer on his account. No sorrow or hint of shame must rest on her. Moreover, he had, in a sense, made Clay a promise; the dying man had trusted him.

“I claim that case,” he said quietly. “I told Clay I’d give it to Osborne.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Jaques looked up.

“Well,” he said, “I’m not sure that’s not the best way out of it. What’s your idea, Mr. Bethune?”

“On the whole, I agree with you. Somebody may have meant to wreck the vessel, but we have no proof to offer; and, after all, it’s the gold that concerns us, and the underwriters who paid for it when lost will get it back. This ought to satisfy them; and I don’t see that it’s our part to go any further into the matter.” He smiled as he added: “I’ll admit it’s a course that seems likely to save us a good deal of trouble.”

They decided to deposit the gold in the vaults of an express company in Victoria, and that Bethune should then open negotiations with the insurers.

“I guess I could sell the Cetacea for you at a moderate price,” Jaques said. “One of the boys here thinks of going into the deep-water fishery.”

“I’d be sorry to part with the boat, but we have no use for her,” Jimmy replied. “Our idea is that if we can get enough from the insurance people we might make a venture in the towing and transport line. A small wooden, propeller tug wouldn’t cost very much; and we might even begin with a big launch or two.”

“It ought to pay,” declared Jaques. “The coasting trade’s pretty good; in fact, I often have to wait some time before I can get my truck brought up.”

“It’s only beginning,” Bethune said. “The coastline of this province is still practically undeveloped, but it’s studded with splendid natural harbors, and the extension of the new railroads to the sea will give trade a big impetus. The men who get in first will make their profit. Of course, I’m looking forward a few years to the time when the narrow waters will be covered with steamboats, but in the meanwhile there’s a living to be picked up by towing booms for the sawmills and collecting small freight among the northern settlements.”

He spoke with enthusiasm, and Jaques looked eager.

“I guess you’re right. First of all, you have to see the underwriters; then if you have any use for a few more dollars, let me know. I might help you in several ways.”

They talked the project over, though Bethune and Jaques took the leading part, and Jimmy sat by Mrs. Jaques in a state of quiet content. At the cost of much hardship and toil, he had done what he had undertaken, and now a promising future was opening up. He had confidence in Bethune’s judgment; the path they were starting on might lead to fortune. The thought of Ruth Osborne beckoned Jimmy forward. He was determined that none of the obstacles they would no doubt meet with should turn him aside. He had not his partner’s versatile genius, but he was endowed with a cool courage and a stubborn tenacity which were likely to carry him far.

With a gesture his hostess indicated her husband and Bethune.

“They’re getting keen, but I must say that Tom’s not often mistaken in business matters. He seems to think your prospects are good.”

“We must try to make them good,” Jimmy responded. “It was a fortunate thing for us that we met your husband. We were in a very tight place when he helped us.”

“I’ve wondered why you didn’t go to sea again before that happened. It would have been the easiest way out of your troubles.”

Jimmy grew confidential.

“I had a strong reason for not wishing to leave the province.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Jaques, and beamed upon him. “I understand. I hope you have made a wise choice. Falling in love is rather a serous thing. I suppose she’s pretty?”

“She’s beautiful!”

Mrs. Jaques smiled.

“So you stayed in Vancouver on her account! She would naturally wish to keep you.”

“I have no reason for believing that,” Jimmy answered with a downcast expression.

“You mean – ”

Mrs. Jaques gave him a searching look before she finished her sentence:

“ – that you don’t know whether she is fond of you or not?”

Jimmy hesitated, and the blood crept into his face as he thought of the night he had helped Ruth out of the launch.

“It may be a long time before I find out,” he said. “The trouble is that she’s a rich man’s daughter.”

“What is his name? Your confidence is safe.”

“Osborne.”

Mrs. Jaques showed her surprise, and Jimmy laughed.

“Oh, of course you think I’m mad. Now and then I feel sure of it myself.”

She studied him quietly for a moment. He was handsome, and had an honest, good-humored face, but there was a hint of force in it. He looked reliable, a man to trust, and Mrs. Jaques had a warm liking for him.

“No,” she said; “I don’t think so. Perhaps you’re rash; but, after all, daring’s better than cautious timidity – it carries one farther. Of course, there will be difficulties; but I wouldn’t despair. This a country where a bold man has many chances.”

“Thank you,” murmured Jimmy. “You have made me hopeful.” He looked up abruptly as Bethune addressed him. “Oh, yes,” he said hastily. “Quite so.”

“Quite so!” exclaimed Bethune. “My impression is that you haven’t heard a word I said.”

“I believe that’s possible,” Mrs. Jaques laughed. “However, he has a good excuse. You can’t blame him for talking to me.”

The party broke up soon afterward, and the next morning the sloop sailed for Victoria. Jimmy spent several anxious days in the city before he got a telegram from Bethune informing him that he had come to terms with the underwriters. They were more liberal than Jimmy had hoped, and he thought there should be money enough to launch the new venture in a modest way. He gave the express company orders to deliver the gold, and then set off to visit Osborne.

It was evening when he reached the house. He entered it longing to see Ruth and wondering how she would greet him, but disturbed about his meeting with her father. He was shown at once into the library, and Osborne rose to receive him.

“Aynsley Clay told me that you would call, and I am glad you have done so,” he said cordially. “I hope you will stay for a few days.”

“Thanks, I’m afraid not,” Jimmy answered. “Perhaps I had better get my business done. I really came because Clay asked it; he made me promise to bring you something. I left it in the hall.”

Osborne rang a bell and a square package neatly sewed up in canvas was brought in. Jimmy placed it on the table as soon as they were alone, and began to cut the stitches.

“I don’t know whether you’ll be surprised or not,” he said, as he uncovered a strong wooden box which showed signs of having long been soaked in water.

“That!” exclaimed Osborne, dropping into the nearest chair. “Who found that box?”

“I did – in the steamer’s strong-room.”

Beads of perspiration stood on Osborne’s forehead, and he was breathing with difficulty.

“Do you know – what it contains?” he gasped.

“Yes,” Jimmy answered quietly. “It isn’t gold. Some of the stuff is still inside but I took the rest out to save weight.”

Osborne leaned back in his chair, limp from the shock.

“When did you find it?” he asked.

“About eight months ago, roughly speaking.”

“And Clay knew about it all along?”

“No. We didn’t tell him until a week before his death.”

“That sounds curious,” Osborne said suspiciously. “Since you were silent so long, why did you speak about the thing at last?”

“It looked as if we might have trouble. Clay could have prevented our working, and when he came off to talk matters over we told him about the case. In the end, he lent us his diver and all the assistance he could.”

“And was that the only concession he made?”

“Yes,” said Jimmy with a flush. “It was all we demanded and all we got. It would simplify things if you took that for granted.”

“I suppose you know you were easily satisfied?” Osborne’s tone was ironical.

Jimmy made no response.

“Am I to understand that the case is mine absolutely, to do what I like with?” Osborne asked.

“Yes. You may regard it as a gift from Clay.”

“Who knows anything about the matter besides yourself?”

“My two partners, and a storekeeper who financed us, and his wife. They’re to be trusted. I’ll answer for them.”

“Well,” said Osborne quietly, “you’ll allow me to remark that you and your friends seem to have acted in a very honorable manner. That Clay should send me the case was, in a sense, characteristic of him; but I had no claim on you. If you won’t resent it, I should like to thank you for the line you have taken.”

“I haven’t finished my errand yet. You probably know that we salved a quantity of the gold, but you cannot have heard that we recovered and have accounted for every package that was insured.”

Osborne looked puzzled. He indicated the box on the table.

“You mean counting this one?”

“No; we found a duplicate, containing gold of rather more than the declared weight, on which the underwriters have paid our salvage claim.”

Osborne started, and his face expressed blank astonishment.

“But it sounds impossible! I can’t understand – ”

“It’s puzzling,” Jimmy agreed. “There’s obviously a mystery; but, after talking the thing over, my partners and I decided that we wouldn’t try to unravel it.”

“Perhaps you are wise. You are certainly considerate. But, still, I don’t see – Did you find the thing in the strong-room?”

“Not in the room. Clay showed me where to cut a hole in the roof. He crawled through and brought out the box. I imagine it was hidden among the deckbeams, but we hadn’t time to examine the place.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Osborne; for a light dawned on him as he remembered his partner’s determined attempt to break through the cabin floor on the night of the wreck. “Perhaps you are right. So the insurance people paid your claim and asked no questions. Did they seem satisfied?”

“Yes. I think the matter’s closed.”

There was keen relief in Osborne’s face, and the slackness of his pose suggested the sudden relaxing of a heavy strain. He sat very still for a few moments and then got up.

“Mr. Farquhar,” he said, “you must guess the satisfaction with which I have heard your news. Indeed, I feel that I must think over it quietly. If you will excuse me for a while, Miss Dexter and my daughter will be glad to entertain you.”

“But I must get back as soon as possible,” Jimmy objected, feeling that to stay, as he longed to do, would be embarrassing both to himself and to his host.

“You can’t leave before to-morrow,” said Osborne, smiling. “There’s no night boat now, the launch is under repairs, and my car’s in town. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with our hospitality.”

He rang the bell, and when Jimmy left him he sat down with knitted brows. He wondered where Clay had got the gold. Then suddenly his fist clenched tightly and his frown grew deeper: he remembered that somebody had worked out the alluvial mine before they reached it. There was cause for grave suspicion there, particularly as the case had been put on board secretly, without appearing on the ship’s papers, which would have brought it to Osborne’s knowledge.

The box of gold, however, was not of the first importance. Clay, on his deathbed, perhaps by way of making reparation, had sent him a gift which had banished the apprehensions that had haunted him for years. Whatever Clay had done, Osborne could forgive him now. At last he was a free man: the only evidence against him was in his hands, and he meant to destroy it at once. After all, he had bitterly regretted his one great offense; and his partner’s last act had been to save him from its consequences.