The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
the legend of the Guardians of the Treasure is true."
"Now we're coming to it, Bill," said Jim. "Let's hear something about this treasure."
"It was to find it, Mr. Maitland, that the Paquinetta was fitted out. The story is that in 1600 or thereabouts one Don Silva Rodriguez, having on board his galleon a fabulous load of gold and precious stones which he had obtained in Brazil, was driven ashore on Lone Tree Island and completely wrecked. He waited and waited, spending each day on the top of the hill scanning the horizon for a sail, but never seeing one. And at length his rage and fury drove him mad. There was he with unlimited riches in his pocket so to speak, condemned to spend the rest of his life on an island where they were useless to him. And in his madness he entered into league with the devil. If the devil would send a ship, he would leave half his treasure hidden on the island where no one could find it, for the exclusive use of the devil. And the devil agreed, provided he could instal his own guardians. You smile, Mr. Maitland—and told here in this room I admit the story sounds fantastic. Nevertheless, even if the origin of the yarn is incredible, I still believe that there lurks in that forest a breed of creatures that are neither man nor beast."
"That's right, sir." Robinson, who had been almost forgotten in his corner, suddenly spoke. "The Captain's right. 'Orrors: 'orrors that ain't 'uman."
"So you've heard this story too, have you?" said Jim thoughtfully.
"May I ask what causes your interest in the place, Mr. Maitland?" said Blackett.
"You certainly may, Bill. And I can tell you in a few words. We have in our possession a map that purports to show the spot on the island where the treasure is buried."
"How came you by it?"
"It was given to my brother, Captain Blackett, by a sailor he befriended in Monte Video," said Judy Draycott. "And my brother has since been murdered by a gang here in England who want to get it."
The sailor whistled in astonishment.
"That's bad luck, Miss," he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Now, Bill, the position is this," remarked Jim. "By a subterfuge we have obtained the genuine map as given by the sailor to Miss Draycott's brother. We have also presented the gang with this."
He joined the faked half on to the genuine one and Blackett studied it.
"That, as you will see, Bill, is wrong. The southern half is correct: the northern is not."
"Aye: that's so. The tree and the hill are reversed."
"Well, I'm jiggered," said Robinson. "To think I never spotted that."
"I'm very glad you didn't, Robinson," said Jim. "It would have upset my plans very considerably if you had. To continue, Bill. The other party have no idea that there is anything wrong with the map they've got. It is possible, of course, they may show it to someone like yourself who knows the place, in which case they will discover they've been tricked. But if they don't do that, they won't find their error out till they arrive there."
"Arrive there!" cried Blackett. "Lord save us, you don't mean to say they're going to the island."
"You bet your life, Bill," said Jim. "And so am I."
"You are a fool, Mr. Maitland," said the sailor gravely.
"So are you, Bill," answered Jim, beginning to pace up and down the room. "Because you're coming too. And little Percy."
He paused for a moment with his eyes on the girl.
"Pity—but I'm afraid it's not quite in your line, Miss Draycott. I don't like the sound of that yellow jack."
"Don't you," said the girl, with a sweetness that would have augured danger to him if he had not been so preoccupied.
"Foul thing—yellow jack. Still we're all pretty well pickled against fever, and as far as Percy is concerned he can bite the microbe first. Microbes flee from you, don't they, old lad? Suppose they must draw the line somewhere."
"I had a sort of idea, Mr. Maitland," continued Judy even more sweetly, "that the map of the island was mine."
Jim stared at her.
"By Jove! yes—so it is," he cried. "But it's understood, of course, that when we discover the old tin can buried by Bill's Spanish pal, it's absolutely yours. Bill—when can you start? Fares and all expenses, of course, are mine."
"Are you really serious?" demanded the other.
"Serious as be damned, old lad. And the marvel to me is that I've never heard this perfectly gorgeous yarn before."
And it was just as well for his peace of mind that he did not see the look on the girl's face as she watched him.
"If you don't come," he went on, "I'll have to rope in someone else who can do the sailoring part. But I'd dearly like to have you with me, Bill."
And suddenly the sailor laughed.
"Right you are. I'm with you."
"Great," shouted Jim. "I'll fix details with you to-morrow, Bill, and show you the complete map."
His eyes were gleaming with excitement.
"Speed: speed—that's the order of the day," he continued. "We've got to get there first. And I see no reason why we shouldn't. They suspect nothing, so as far as they are concerned there's no urgent need for hurry."
"Well, we'll have a look at things to-morrow," said Blackett, getting up. "I think you're a fool, Mr. Maitland, and I know I am, but anyway I'm going to bed. Good night, Miss," he added with a grin. "Can't you make him see reason?"
He stumped down the stairs followed by Robinson, and Jim grinned too.
"A priceless fellow," he remarked. "Worth two in a scrap."
"Do you think there's anything in his story about the things in the forest?" said the girl.
"Frankly, I don't," answered Jim. "As he admitted himself sailors are a superstitious bunch, and their stories rarely lose in the telling. But it was a queer yarn, wasn't it, about the Paquinetta? I should say myself that the generally accepted theory was correct—mutiny and yellow jack. For all that you'll have to learn to pull a pretty useful trigger, Percy."
But at the moment Percy slept quite shamelessly.
"How will you go?" demanded the girl.
"Either Purple Star or Union Mail as far as Rio. I'll have a look at the list of sailings to-morrow. Then from Rio I'll charter something or other to get to the island in."
"And where will you stay in Rio?" she asked.
"Probably the Gloria," said Jim. "Judy—I wish you could see Rio. It's one of the most divinely beautiful places in the world."
"So I've always heard," she remarked. "You must bring me back some picture postcards of the place."
Jim looked at her suspiciously.
"What are you driving at, Judy?" he said. "The tone of your last remark was very peculiar."
"Sorry about that," she answered. "I was really thinking of something else. What a wonderful judge of character Captain Blackett is."
"Bill! Judge of character! I don't know that I've ever noticed it particularly."
"I mean when he called you a fool. Do give me a match, will you?"
"Not a match do you get until you tell me what you're driving at."
"Well—you must be one. Do you really imagine, Jim Maitland, that I'm going to sit at home here while you and that snoring monstrosity go gallivanting off on a perfectly priceless trip like this which you'd never have heard about but for me. Not so, my lad: you guess again."
"But, Judy," he said feebly. "My dear—think of the fever. And the discomfort.