The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
did Barnet die?"
"His brains were bashed out against a tree, if you want to know."
"Who by?"
"I think what by would be a better way of putting it."
"I don't believe you," snarled the other. "You murdered him because he'd found the treasure. He told me he thought he might be able to."
"With the map he'd got?"
"Yes. You may be clever, Mr. Maitland, but other people aren't fools. You'd altered the position of the hill and the tree, but the writing at the bottom remained."
"Except for the little bit that was missing in the left-hand corner," said Jim.
"That either had to be east or west," sneered the dwarf.
"It was west to be exact. I found it that night we had our little chat in your house at Hampstead. I fear Barnet may have thought it was east: that might account for us finding his hat where we did."
"His hat! Where was Barnet himself?"
"His body had evidently been flung into the bog. There was no trace of it."
"A likely story, Mr. Maitland. You tell me that a man of Barnet's size and weight had his brains bashed out against a tree and expect me to believe it!"
"It's a matter of complete indifference to me whether you believe it or whether you don't," drawled Jim. "I'm sorry the poor devil met the end he did, but he wasn't a gentleman whose habits I liked, and I'm not going into mourning for him."
"Don't be too sure about that," said the other thickly. "I would point out that there are some forty of us against you two. And justice can be summary."
"Do you suggest making Percy and me walk the plank," laughed Jim. "Come, come, Dresler—I don't think the old brain is working very well. Do you seriously imagine that I am going to barge straight into the lion's den, and deliver myself bound hand and foot to a bunch of damned stiffs like you?"
"And if you don't what about Miss Draycott?"
"Go a little further, my friend: what about you? You seem to forget that it is fifty-fifty. Until Miss Draycott and Bill Blackett are delivered over to me safe and sound, you stay on board here. You can't catch me in a row boat, and if your pal Don Miguel tries any monkey tricks like ramming me with the yacht I'll hang you over the side to act as a fender."
For a while the dwarf was silent: then he shrugged his shoulders.
"There is no reason why we should lose our tempers, Mr. Maitland, is there? I feel sure that matters can be settled amicably."
"Then go on feeling sure," remarked Jim. "It may help. But all I'm sure about is that if a hair of Miss Draycott's head has been injured you'll pray for death before I'm through with you. And you'd better make them understand the fact on board the yacht, when we get there to-morrow morning."
"Why to-morrow morning? Why not to-night?"
"Your second error, Dresler. The passage through the reef here is bad enough even when it's light. To do it in the darkness would be literally impossible."
"You know best," said the dwarf uneasily. "I would have preferred to reach the yacht to-night."
Jim stared at him grimly.
"You don't suppose that I want to remain here, do you, you rotten little sweep? But when I say it is impossible, I mean it's impossible. There would not be one chance in a thousand of our getting through without stoving in our bottom. And though I have not the slightest objection to your drowning, I have the very gravest to losing the boat and being compelled to leave Miss Draycott on board the yacht."
Once again the dwarf shrugged his shoulders.
"Very good, Mr. Maitland. As I said before, you know best. Might I ask what the time is now?"
"Ten o'clock," said Jim curtly. "Eight hours before we can start."
He began pacing up and down the tiny saloon, his mind on the rack with anxiety. The thought of Judy alone in the yacht, with Bill possibly still unconscious, drove him almost insane. But there was nothing to be done: to attempt to navigate the entrance would be the act of a madman. For a while he even thought of the possibility of trying to make his way on foot over the island, but even if he succeeded there would be no way of getting on board the yacht save by swimming. And the chances of a swimmer in those shark infested waters were negligible. As far as he himself was concerned he would have been prepared to risk it, but the vital consideration was Judy. And if anything happened to him what was going to become of her?
"Well since there is all that time before us," remarked the dwarf cutting into his thoughts, "it might be interesting to exchange views on the matter that has brought us both here. Have you had any luck in locating this hypothetical treasure, Mr. Maitland?"
"I have not," said Jim tersely. "The only luck that my cousin and I have had to-day is getting off the island alive!"
"Are you really serious?" said the other with an incredulous smile.
"I have already told you what happened to Barnet," answered Jim. "And as you yourself remarked he was a big heavy man."
The smile became more incredulous.
"I quite appreciate, of course, your natural wish to keep the pitch for yourself," said the dwarf gently. "But I fear you will have to get a rather better one than that, Mr. Maitland."
"Look here, Dresler," remarked Jim wearily, "I'm getting a little tired of you. What do you imagine can be my object in telling a lie over a thing that can easily be proved or disproved? Anyway you can now go along to Blackett's cabin, and I'll pull you out in the morning. I want a respite from your face. Show him the way, Percy."
The dwarf got down off his chair, and stood for a moment or two in the centre of the saloon. Jim was rummaging in a cupboard for the whisky: Percy was lighting a cigarette. And so there was no one to notice a head that suddenly appeared in the fan-light, with a pair of bestial eyes fixed on the short misshapen figure of the blind man. Amazement followed incredulity in their expression: gloating anticipation followed amazement. Then as Jim straightened up the head was abruptly withdrawn.
"Good night," said the dwarf as Percy took him by the arm.
"Between half-past five and six," grunted Jim.
"I shall be ready," remarked the other.
"It's the devil, Percy," said Jim when his cousin returned. "I tried to bluff it out in front of that little swine, but they've got six to four the better of us. And anyone who is not bughouse can see they have."
"You don't think they'll hurt Judy, do you?"
"No," said Jim thoughtfully. "At any rate not to-night. Their only idea is to get the correct map. And they're not going to do anything which would jeopardise their chances of obtaining it. But the fact remains that we shall have to give it to them. We must get Judy off that yacht, and they won't let her come without it. It's a pity, but it can't be helped."
"You meant to come back here?"
"Of course I did. Once we'd got Judy safe in Rio, we could have fitted out a properly armed expedition. And even if we'd found no treasure we should have had a lot of fun. But now that swab Miguel will know as much as we do. He may or may not decide to carry on now, when he finds the island is not uninhabited. And if he doesn't the same idea will strike him—go back and refit. Which is where he will score. He's got a yacht ready to hand: we haven't."
He rose and stretched himself.
"Ah! well. Absolutely nothing matters beyond getting Judy safely out of it. Hullo! what the devil do you want?"
He swung round and stared at the dwarf who was standing in the entrance white faced and shaking.
"Was it either of you," he quavered, "who passed his hand over my face?"
"It was not. What happened?"
"A hand—a huge hairy