Chapter VII: Part 7

"He should swing if it depended upon me, now, and I could prove anything," said Jack grimly. "But come and interview Captain Edwards, and see if he'll stop the ship and land us." Captain Edwards was upon the bridge with the pilot, whom we had shipped at Copenhagen.

"Of course," Jack added, as we caught sight of the jolly-looking, weather-beaten Dane standing beside our own skipper--"the pilot! We'll ask Edwards to let us go ashore in his boat, with him; that'll probably be Elsinore. Confound it all, though, we shall be six hours behind him at Copenhagen!"

"But why, what's up, what's happened?" asked bewildered Captain Edwards, when we had made known to him the nature of our request; "has the other fellow bolted with the money-bags?"

We explained that this was just about the state of the case; the man had robbed us, and we must land and be after him.

"Are you quite sure it was he?" continued Edwards; "it would be funny if you went after this fellow and left the real culprit, _plus_ your property, on board!"

But we explained that there was no reasonable doubt as to this. The only person now on the ship who might possibly have had a hand in it was Michail, and we begged the captain to keep an open eye on this rascal, and even have him watched on landing in Hull. It was possible that he might have in his possession a picture belonging to us, and of some value.

"What! a work of art?" laughed Edwards. "May I ask how you came to be travelling about and landing and prospecting on Hogland in company with a valuable work of art?"

Well, we thought it best--and probably the shorter way as well--to tell the skipper all about it, and we did so. Now that Strong was out of our hands we need not scruple to conceal the fact that he was perhaps the greatest rascal unhung, and that he and the hero of the Narva exploit were one and the same person.

Captain Edwards was naturally somewhat excited.

"The scoundrel ought to have been sent back to Narva," he said, "not brought on here and set free. You deserve what's happened for setting such a monster loose upon society. It's not fair dealing towards your kind, young men, upon my soul it isn't; you may take that from an older man than yourselves. However, please God you'll catch him yet. You must land with the pilot, of course; that'll be at Elsinore, in half an hour's time. You'd better get your traps ready."

We went down to prepare for our departure. In the cabin a thought occurred to me. What if Michail and Strong were in direct collusion, and had agreed upon a base of action such as this: that Michail should convey to us, just as he had done, by innuendo, that Strong had stolen our property, in order that we might be induced to land at Elsinore and hurry back after him by train to Copenhagen; that meanwhile Strong should have caught the first train to Elsinore, and--having "done" the distance by land much faster than we should have accomplished it by water--be waiting at Elsinore or beyond it, knocking around in a small boat all ready to be picked up at dusk by his friend Michail. In that case he would have left the property on board, and would simply continue his journey to Hull, and land there in two days and a half, or three days, while we were still hunting him, goodness knows where, all over the Continent, perhaps!

"Well," said Jack, "if that _is_ the plan, Master Strong will find himself in the wrong box. I don't believe he could get taken on board out of a small boat without stopping the ship, or the captain or mate knowing something of it; but if he did, Edwards knows all about him now, and he'd be as safe here as in Newgate, _pro tem_. Let him come, by all means; the arrangement would be all right for us even though we did lose a few days travelling about the Continent."

Nevertheless we warned Captain Edwards that it was just possible Strong might turn up again beyond Elsinore and demand to be taken aboard, or perhaps be assisted by Michail in making a secret reappearance.

"Not he!" said Edwards; "he wouldn't risk it--don't you make any mistake! I only wish he would. It would be putting his head in a bag with a vengeance!"

I think I ought to make an apology, at this point, to the memory of the astute Mr. James Strong. I ought never to have imagined him capable of so crude an enterprise as that which my fancy accused him of undertaking.

*CHAPTER XXXVI*

*WE FIND AN OLD FRIEND*

The ugly castle of Elsinore was in sight when we came on deck, and a few minutes later the pilot's own little craft, splendidly sailed by his mate and a boy, came alongside, and without asking us to stop for her, made fast to us and raced along in our company.

After a hasty farewell with Captain Edwards, and a whispered injunction under all circumstances to keep a good look-out upon Michail, we threw our portmanteaus into the arms of the astonished Dane below, and followed the pilot down the steps swung over the side of the ship for our accommodation.

Though the pilot lived at a village at some little distance from Elsinore, he kindly agreed to convey us to the railway station at the latter town, and with a fair wind we soon made the jetty close to the very spot from which the trains start. Here, having paid off our gallant boatmen, we jumped ashore and hurried with all speed to the station, to find that we had just missed one train and that we could not now catch another for an hour and more. This was tantalising and vexatious; but at least we were ashore and in full chase after our quarry, and that was a source of some comfort to us.

Together we paced up and down the platform of Elsinore Station. We tried to converse. I asked Jack what he thought would be Hamlet's opinion of the state of affairs if he were to "come down" and see a railway station within a stone's-throw of his capital castle of Elsinore.

Jack replied that all depended upon whether Strong should have been lucky in catching his train; if one had started from Copenhagen soon after he landed there, then his advantage over us would be very great, and probably our best way would be to let him go, and hurry back to England, ourselves, by land.

Presently, standing at a spot whence he commanded a good view of the castle, Jack observed that if Hamlet's father's ghost ever walked upon the parapet of the great ugly building nowadays, he must be as active as a cat, for there would be a lot of climbing to do, there being a kind of miniature turret at every few yards which the ghost would have to negotiate if he desired to get along.

To which I replied, in a contemplative fashion, that in any case we knew well enough without the paper where we had to dig for the money, and the only thing that really mattered was the picture. The question was, did we absolutely require the daub to help us find the treasure, or not? At anyrate, Strong knew too much to come fooling around in England. He must know that we would nab him at once. There was no fear of Strong himself turning up. From all of which it will be gathered that our conversation was a little mixed. However, the train started at last, and we left Elsinore behind us.

At Copenhagen many inquiries had to be made, and at first we were somewhat helpless; for though the language sounded sufficiently like English to make it additionally annoying that we could not understand it, yet neither we nor those with whom we attempted to converse could make head or tail of that which we or they respectively tried to convey. At the station we could do nothing towards making our wishes known, and at length we determined to visit the nearest hotel and engage an interpreter, if such a person existed.

Here we were lucky, for we found the very man, and to him we confided our need, namely, to get upon the track of an individual who landed from an English steamer, and had, presumably, gone on by the first train elsewhere.

"But where?" asked our commissionaire; and to this question we had, of course, no reply.

"We must begin at the beginning, and go down first to the landing-stage," said our friend.

Now this was annoying, because the journey would be a loss of time; but it was obviously the correct course, and we took it. We must begin our inquiries from the spot at which he first touched land.

Down at the wharf our Dane interviewed several boatmen, all of whom had seen the _Thomas Wilcox_ arrive and depart, and all of whom agreed that a passenger had landed and had engaged a conveyance and driven away.

"To the station, of course," said I. "Why do we wait? This is all a waste of precious time!"

"Which station?" asked our Dane grimly; and, when I had no reply to make, he added, "That is what we have come for to find out."

It seemed, however, that the point was a most difficult one to establish, and that we should be obliged to drive to each station in turn, thereby wasting more time, until there wandered upon the scene, presently, a Danish youth who said he had taken the passenger's bag out of the boat and put it into the carriage. The passenger was a German, he said.

"How do you know that?" asked Jack, through the interpreter.

"Because he wanted to get to Kiel," said the boy; "he knew no Danish, and could only hold up his finger to the driver and say, 'Skielskor, for Kiel!'"

This was good enough for us. We drove rapidly towards the station, feeling that we were about to make a real start at last.

The clerk at the booking-office remembered the man we wanted. He had hurried into the station and said, in an interrogative manner, "Skielskor?" and when the clerk had replied that it was all right, if he meant that he required a ticket for that place, he had repeated, "Kiel--Bremen?" Whereupon the clerk, seeing that conversation would be difficult, had tentatively offered two tickets, one to Skielskor, and the other through to Kiel; of which he had selected and paid for the latter. He had left just an hour ago.

"Can't we get to Kiel direct by water, quicker than by land to Skielskor, and thence across?" asked Jack. "If there should be a steamer going just about now, we might possibly cut him off at Kiel."

Fortune favoured us quite handsomely this time.

Hastening back to the waterside we actually found a Kiel steamer about to depart; that is, a large steamer lay in mid-channel, having arrived since we were down here half an hour before; she had stopped to put down passengers, just as the _Thomas Wilcox_ did, and would proceed almost immediately.

We signalled her to take us on board, and left without a moment's delay.

"Great Scott, Jack!" I exclaimed; "Strong will have the luck of the evil one himself if he reaches Kiel before us now; this is splendid!"

We ascertained that, all being well, we should reach our destination considerably before Strong could do so, he travelling by land and then by small steamer to Kiel, even though he should catch one just about to start. Under these circumstances the jubilation which we felt was most justifiable, and over a capital dinner we spoke with delight of the joy in store for us, when we should stand on the landing-stage waiting for the arrival of the little Skielskor steamer, and see the countenance of Mr. James Strong change when he caught sight of us there.

"Will he have a fit, think you, Jack?" I asked in glee.

Jack said he thought it quite likely; it would appear so uncanny to the wretched chap, and so utterly unexpected. "I should certainly have a fit under similar circumstances," he added.

We went to bed with the conviction that fortune was treating us kindly this time, and that to-morrow had consolations for us in expiation for the shocks and disappointments of to-day.

But these rascally to-morrows never perform exactly what is expected of them. Our programme was all of the colour of the rose, and justifiably so; but certain circumstances marred the order of events, and things fell out differently.

Now our steamer, the _Peter der Grosse_, had come from Cronstadt, just as our own _Thomas Wilcox_ had, and in Russia at this time the cholera was having one of those periodical innings which it enjoys at regular or irregular intervals in that country. And when we arrived at Kiel and requested to be landed as quickly as might be, we were met by the stunning statement that this would be impossible until the quarantine officer should have come on board and passed us.

"How long will that be?" we asked, and were informed that it might be a couple of hours and might be twelve.

"They are very particular here," said the captain, "and are as likely as not to leave us half a day or so, just to give the germs a chance, in case they should require this much extra time to develop."

As a matter of fact, the quarantine officer did not visit us until nearly evening, we having arrived before midday. Just before his arrival I had noticed a little Danish steamer creep into harbour, and through the captain's glasses I distinguished, or thought to distinguish, the words "_Helma_--Skielskor."

"Jack," I said, "look at the little craft just running into harbour--here, take the glasses."

Jack took them and had a long steady gaze at the small steamer.

"You're quite right," he said presently (I had expressed no opinion whatever!); "he's just done it; that must be his boat; there's no question of it!"

Then Jack muttered an expressive word between his teeth, and I another.

Then I looked at Jack and he at me, and--having nothing better or wiser to do, I suppose--we both burst into a roar of laughter.

It was sickening to see the fellow just gliding out of our very hands; but at the same time it was really very funny.

"Never mind," said Jack. "We'll be after him directly, and we know he's going _via_ Bremen. Perhaps we may catch the same train yet."

But we were not destined to reap this crop of good fortune. The quarantine officers came on board and examined carefully every creature in the ship. This occupied a couple of hours. Fortunately for us, we were able to prove that we had joined the steamer at Copenhagen; still more so, we were not asked for passports, otherwise the fact would have been revealed that we too had come from Russia, and we, like the rest of the passengers, would have been delayed in quarantine for twenty-four or forty-eight hours, or whatever the term may have been.

As it was, we were allowed to land, though the rest were detained; and without a moment's delay we made for the station, calling on the way at the jetty, at which lay, sluggishly steaming, the little Skielskor steamer which had arrived a short while since.

We inquired of the captain, as best we could, as to the passengers he had brought over. Was there an Englishman? we asked; and we described our friend Strong. The captain who--excellent man!--spoke English, replied that most certainly there had been an Englishman among his passengers, a charming, cheery sort of person, who had laughed and drunk Swedish punch all the way, and told capital stories. He was a generous kind of a man too, and had stood drinks all round. He had also made him, the skipper, a little present which he declared to be of some value, though it could not be said to have the appearance of much intrinsic worth, so far as he, the skipper, was able to judge!

"Oh," said Jack, not greatly interested; "and what was that?"

"The picture of an old man--Dutch School; after Gerard Dow, so he said," laughed the skipper. "You can see it, if you like; you may be a judge of these things. Lord knows why he gave it me--drunk, I suppose!"

*CHAPTER XXXVII*

*MR. STRONG MAKES AN EFFECTIVE REAPPEARANCE*

This communication was as exciting as it was utterly unexpected. We entreated the skipper, as calmly as we could, to produce his work of art. He did so. It was the portrait, of course.

And we to talk of ill-luck! Why, supposing the thing to be really of any value to us, it was a stroke of the most magnificent good fortune to have found it in this way! I realised this fact as the skipper brought the ugly thing out, and--with a laugh--placed it on the table before us.

"There," he said; "a beauty, isn't it? If it's by Gerard Dow, why, I don't think much of Gerard Dow, and that's the truth. Any offers?" he added, with another laugh.

"Ten shillings!" said Jack, laughing also. "It isn't Gerard Dow, nor yet _after_ him; but I collect these old Dutch daubs, and I'll take it off your hands for a half sovereign."

"That and a drink round," said the skipper.

And ten minutes later we were driving in a German droshky to the station, having our newly-recovered treasure in tow.

It mattered little, now, whether we caught Strong or not. As a matter of fact he would be more of an embarrassment than anything else. What should we do with him if we caught him?

At anyrate, however, we would shadow him and see what he intended to do. If his destination should prove to be England, then matters would be different and it would be our duty to follow and arrest him.

"We can't prove anything," I said.

"We shall have to try," replied Jack. "A rogue like him can't be allowed to prowl about England free." This was, of course, perfectly true.

"Why did the chap steal the portrait, only to chuck it away again?" I said presently, as we drove along. "Simply to annoy us, or prevent us finding the treasure, even though he daren't go and dig for it at Streatham himself?"

"That's the idea, I should think," said Jack; "that if _he_ can't have it, _you_ shan't!"

Upon reaching the station we found that Mr. Strong was, at anyrate, not to be caught in Kiel. The Bremen train had left just an hour ago, with him in it. There would be another in fifty minutes.

"Gad, Peter, we are in the race, at anyrate, after all!" said Jack, with a guffaw; "if we have any luck in the trains we may catch him yet."

"Let's find out how long he'll have to wait at Hamburg for the Bremen train," I suggested.

We did so, and found to our annoyance that our train reached Hamburg just ten minutes after Strong's was timed to leave that station for Bremen. There would be another one, however, in an hour or less, and a quicker one than his; so that we might get him at Bremen, It would depend upon what should be his next destination.

"It doesn't much matter," I reflected. "If we don't catch him at Bremen we'd better just see where he's gone to and then set off for Streatham, _via_ Hanover and Flushing, as quickly as possible. Are you very keen to see him, Jack?"

"It depends," said Jack. "I should dearly like to see him, just once more, in a dark lane and without witness or revolvers, but with a pair of football boots upon my feet. That would be very sweet indeed. At a crowded station, one might get in a little comforting language; but kicking would be out of the question, and therefore the case would not really be met. However, it would be nice just to see his face, when _he_ sees _ours_, and to tell him one or two things about himself."

So we took train for Bremen _via_ Hamburg, and at this latter place we found, to our amusement, that our train, though starting after Strong's, who had already gone on, ran into Bremen a short while before the other; ours being an express.

"Gad, Peter, this is splendid!" cried old Jack, rubbing his hands with delight.

It really was; it was splendid! Destiny was playing a strong game in our favour; there was no doubt about it.

We should thus have the ecstatic pleasure of meeting Mr. Strong upon the platform, and of observing his expression of delight upon seeing us waiting for him.

It was at some little station outside Bremen, and about five miles from that city, that we overtook Strong's train, which, no doubt, was waiting there in order to allow the express to go by.

We did not know it was Strong's train, of course. We discovered the fact in this way--

I was reading, Jack was looking out of the window. Suddenly he startled me with an exclamation. He was staring, all eyes, through the glass, which was closed on account of the dustiness of the German railways.

"What is it?" I inquired. I looked out, but saw nothing very startling or unusual; a train lay alongside of ours, and Jack was staring, as it appeared, into one of the carriages.

"What is it?" I repeated.

"Hush!" said Jack. "Don't make a row, but just look in there--the compartment exactly opposite this one. Don't speak too loud or you may awake the dear kind soul."

I looked, and first my heart gave a great jump; then, almost immediately, I was attacked by the most violent desire to laugh aloud, and I sank back in my place and heaved about, stuffing my handkerchief into my mouth to prevent an outburst of noise therefrom.

For it was Strong himself, alone in a carriage, and fast asleep--the pretty innocent--not dreaming of the possibility of enemies at hand! Happy; at peace with all the world; slumbering upon his second-class cushions in all the guileless confidence of a weary child. It was too beautiful for words.

Almost immediately our train started with a sudden jerk, and spoiled our contemplation of the sweet picture before us. But in marring one it gave us another--a mere lightning flash of a picture, this last, certainly; but one which I would not have missed for untold sums, and the memory of which is even now a constant delight to me whenever conjured up by the wizard Imagination.

The movement of our train caused Strong to open his eyes languidly and to raise them towards the cause of his awakening.

At the same instant he caught sight of Jack's face and then of mine, and a more sudden and startled rushing of a sleepy intelligence into full and disgusted wakefulness I have never beheld. Strong's eyes went from languid and fishy expressionlessness into swiftly alternating phases representing surprise, disgust, rage and terror; they seemed to start from his head and to grow, visibly, to about twice their normal size. It was a noteworthy and unforgettable spectacle; it was beautiful. As we passed out of his scope of vision, we saw the fellow start from his seat as though to put his head out of the window and follow us away with his eyes.

"Did you ever see the like of that?" exclaimed Jack, subsiding into his seat and beginning to roar with laughter.

"_I_ never did!" I concurred. "The only thing is," I added, "the rascal will get out, now, and not come on to Bremen."

"That doesn't matter a bit," said Jack; "let him; it will save us trouble; we don't want him now, for we have the picture, which is all he took from us barring Clutterbuck's letter, of which we each have a couple of copies, besides one apiece by heart."

"He may come on to England after us," I said. Jack laughed.

"I don't believe it. He wouldn't dare. This last fright would put him off even if he had contemplated it. As a matter of fact, I don't believe he ever meant digging. He wouldn't have given away the picture if he had, for he could scarcely have failed to suppose that it has something to do with the treasure finding, though I'm bound to say I, for one, can't imagine _what_!"

"Then why did he steal it from us?" I exclaimed.

"Malice, my dear chap; pure, unadulterated malice and devilment; the rascal wouldn't be happy unless he were playing Old Nick upon someone or other." I daresay Jack was perfectly right.

We waited at Bremen Station, however, for the arrival of Strong's train, in case he should be in it, and--as it happened--we should have saved ourselves both time and vexation of spirit if we had gone on and left him.

Strong was in the train. He came out as bold as brass, and showed no fear or surprise when he met us upon the platform. He even wished us good-evening, and asked us how we came to be here and not on board the _Thomas Wilcox_, in the middle of the North Sea.

"Well, you're a darned cool hand, Strong, I must say!" said Jack. "What about the work of art, and the other things?"

"What work of art?" he asked, positively without a blush.

"Clutterbuck's picture--you know quite well what we mean," I said. "You stole it out of our cabin."

"I never went near your blamed cabin," he said; "you'd better prove what you say. You're too jolly fond of accusing innocent people, you two bounders. If I had you in a quiet place I'd make you swallow all those infernal lies about me that you invented on Hogland."

"Oh, that's your line is it, Strong?" said Jack "You're going to figure as the injured innocent, are you? All right, my man; you're safe here in Germany, but don't you show yourself in England."

"You cannot prove anything, curse you!" cried Strong, "and you know it."

"Very well; quite likely; at the same time, think twice before crossing the Channel; we may have a little evidence up our sleeve that you don't know of."

Strong uttered one of his oaths, which need not be repeated.

"You deny stealing the picture, then?" continued Jack.

"I may have it and I may not," said Strong, too angry now to care what he said. "At anyrate, it seems _you_ haven't."

"Never judge by appearances, Strong," said Jack; "we have it, all right, such as it is. Pity to allow a work of art by G. Dow to remain in the hands of a man who can't even recognise the beauty of it. Your friend sold the keepsake you gave him--unkind of him, wasn't it?" Strong winced.

"You have the luck of the devil," he snarled. "What's your game? You can't touch me, here; you know that. Michail took the picture; I didn't want the infernal thing--he took it in revenge for your kicking him on the island--there! You're welcome to it; it's as like my darned uncle as two peas, I'm sick when I look at it. It may help you to find the treasure, though how in perdition it's going to do it beats me. If you want my opinion, there isn't any treasure--at least, not for you or me. The blamed old miser played a trick on us all; it's rotting somewhere, like him; and no one'll ever dig up the money any more than his carcass. The whole thing's blamed, bally rot, and we've all been a parcel of silly idiots; that's my opinion--take it or leave it."

"We'll leave it, thanks, Strong," said Jack; "and we'll leave you too, if you'll excuse us. Good-night, my man; you'd better keep this side of the Channel, that's _our_ opinion, take or leave _it_."

Strong darted a look of anger at Jack, and turned on his heel with an oath. He slunk out of the station and disappeared in the dusk outside.

We were in two minds whether to follow and keep him in sight, or let him be. But we decided to let him go, since he did not appear to have any intention of molesting us further.

So we sought out a hotel near the station and engaged a room together, for it would be just as well to double our chance of hearing Strong should he, by any chance, resolve to make another attempt to deprive us of the picture, or otherwise rob us, and somehow force an entry into the room.

As it happened, we were disturbed before we were an hour older; but not by Strong.

A very unexpected and exasperating thing happened--comical too, after a fashion, especially after the event.

We were seated over our supper in the coffee-room of our hotel, when a scared-looking waiter informed us that both the English Herren were wanted downstairs.

"By whom?" we asked in some surprise.

"By the police," said the man; "should he invite them upstairs, or would we step below into the entrance hall?"

Jack and I looked at one another. What did this mean?

"We will come down," said Jack; and to the great hall below we descended. Here an astonishing spectacle greeted our eyes: a group of policemen in uniform; a man in civilian garb, presumably an interpreter; and--Mr. James Strong!

*CHAPTER XXXVIII*

*ARRESTED*

"Yes," observed Mr. Strong, upon our appearance, "these are the very men. Tell the police, Mr. Interpreter, that these persons have robbed me; the robbery was effected while _en route_ from Russia; they are, I believe, in possession of a work of art belonging to myself; their luggage had better be searched."

I was absolutely speechless with surprise. This was certainly the most audacious act I had ever heard of. I did not know whether to be more furious or amused.

Jack apparently decided in favour of fury. "You infernal rascal, Strong!"--he began, but Strong said something to the interpreter, who signed to the police, who promptly laid hold of Jack and me. It was too ridiculous.

"Strong, you"--Jack began again, and--"Gad, Strong, if I don't"--began I; but our policemen would not have us speak, and marched us up to our room, Strong and the interpreter following, bidding us in curt military fashion hold our tongues. It was a ridiculous position. I have laughed over the memory of it scores of times; I even felt inclined to laugh then. What could Strong's motive be in acting in this way? He could not want the picture, or he would never have given it to the skipper at Kiel. Had he thought better of it, and determined, if possible, to get us locked up here for a few days while he hurried away to Streatham to dig without us?

He couldn't, surely! Why, we could prove our right to the work of art by telegraphing to Kiel, and, if necessary, producing the skipper to witness to our purchase. Besides, he would have to prove _his_ right to the thing before they could justly deliver it over to him.

It must be an act of spite, then, conceived in the simple desire to score one against us.

Of course the picture was found in my portmanteau. Equally, of course, we protested that it was our own, while Strong declared that we had stolen it from him during the voyage to Copenhagen. No less was it to be expected that upon seeing the work of art, both policemen and interpreters smiled grimly, and that one of them observed--

"_Was ist aber Dass fuer ein Teufelskopf!_"

In the end, the police took possession of the disputed picture, but allowed us to remain in peace at the hotel. This was, however, Saturday night, so that the examination into the matter of ownership which, we were informed, it would be necessary to hold, could not be brought into court before Monday.

This was very unfortunate, for if Strong should really have devised this little interlude with the sole desire to gain time, in order to reach the treasure-ground in Streatham a day or two before us, he had certainly gained his end.

It was in vain that we assured our captors that we could easily prove our title to the work of art by simply telegraphing to Kiel, to the man from whom we purchased it.

"That will be very good evidence on Monday, supposing that the seller appears in person," said the police. "Meanwhile, we will take care of the work of art, and on Monday you shall speak, and your friend here shall speak, and the plaintiff shall speak, and then we shall see to whom the beautiful picture belongs."

"This gentleman will not wait to hear the case argued," said Jack, indicating Strong; "he will be in England by Monday!"

"Then he will lose the picture," said the man, shrugging his shoulders. "Whoever remains alone to claim it, to him we shall consider that it rightfully belongs."

"You're a nice, audacious blackguard, Strong, I will say!" muttered Jack to our friend, as--accompanied by his little band of interpreter and police, with the picture--Strong left the room; "I warn you, you'd better be out of Streatham by Tuesday, for by all that's certain, we shall have no mercy if we catch you on our side of the water!"

"Don't fret," said Strong; "I shall have the cash by that time, and you may catch me when you can find me."

"Do you really mean to dig, Strong?" I said. "I wish you'd take advice and keep away; we don't want to be the cause of your hanging, but we shall be forced to give you up if we catch you in England; you must know that."

"Well, catch me there, curse you!" said Strong rudely. "You'll have to be a darned sight sharper than you've been yet, either of you, before you touch either me or the money! That's my last word."

"Well, _we_ are off by the next train," said Jack (to my surprise); "so you'll not get the start you expect. You don't suppose we're going to wait for that ridiculous picture, do you?"

Strong looked foxily at Jack for a second or two; but he said nothing, and followed the others from the room.

"Lord!" said Jack, when they had gone, "I don't know whether to laugh or cry; what a mysterious, incomprehensible, snake of a beast it is! What's his game? One thing is clear, either it hasn't struck him (which is improbable), or he has decided against believing, that the picture has anything to do with finding the money."

"So have you, apparently," I said; "for you told him that we were not going to wait for it."

"That was bluff, man; don't you understand? It was said to frighten him from going on by the first train to Streatham; because, don't you see, if he thinks that we are going at once, why, _he_ can't."

"Do you think he's still after the treasure?" I asked.

"That's what I can't make out," replied Jack; "it would be a fearful risk for him to be about the place when we are there too, he knows that well enough; yet I can't help thinking that he has not abandoned all hope of the money. He's such a snake, that's the mischief of it; who's to know what his game is? At anyrate, we must wait and get the picture. It may and may not have a bearing on the search, but we won't risk anything."

"What if he waits too, and claims it?"

"That is not at all likely; he doesn't want the picture. I should say he'll be up at the station for the next Flushing train, and if he doesn't see us there, he'll go on. Perhaps we'd better show up at the station in order to prevent his departure."

We agreed to do this, and having found out that a Flushing train started early on Sunday morning, we both drove to the station, great-coated as though for travelling, and stood about near the train as though intending to board it at any moment.

Carefully we scrutinised the faces of all who passed and repassed us, about to travel by the express, but we did not see Strong. He had not thought good to journey to England, then; probably Jack's hint that we were intending to travel by the first opportunity had deterred him. Presently, after much bell-ringing and whistling, and loud-voiced invitations, from stentorian German throats, to take our seats, the train slowly began to move forward.

"Well, _that's_ all right," said Jack; "he isn't in _there_, anyhow."

"Good-morning, gentlemen both," said someone leaning out of a carriage window--the last carriage--just as we were about to turn and depart. "Wish me luck with my digging, won't you? Forty-eight hours' start ought to do me, eh? Well, ta-ta; take care of the picture--it's a beauty, it is!"

Strong bawled out the last sentence or two at the top of his voice from far away down the platform, to the surprise of a few porters and loiterers who gazed at us suspiciously. Jack shook his fist in Strong's direction, a civility which was replied to by that individual by a grimace, and a gesture of the hands--as the train passed round a curve and out of sight--which might have been intended to signify digging, and might not.

Jack burst out laughing; I did not feel mirthful.

"It's all very well," I said, "but I don't like it. He has forty-eight hours' start of us. He may find the treasure in that time, by some fluke."

"He's been too clever for us, Peter, and that's the plain truth," laughed Jack. "Mind you, I don't think he'll find the money, and maybe he doesn't intend to try; but we have been badly scored off, and there's no denying the fact. We must hope it is only spite. I daresay it's that."

But on Monday morning when we turned up at the police court to claim our work of art, the police, finding that Strong had departed without waiting for the case to be heard, exclaimed--"_Lieber Gott im Himmel!_ you were then right!" upon which the interpreter added that he supposed the other Englishman had not waited for the original because the copy which he possessed of it, and which he had shown him, the interpreter, was probably sufficient for him.

"Had he a copy?" asked Jack quickly.

"Certainly," said the man; "a very exact one. Done, he told me, by a clever sailor on the ship which brought him from Russia. He had it painted as a precaution, he said, lest certain persons should steal the original for their own purposes."

The police allowed us to take away our work of art, however, without further difficulties.

"Gad," said Jack, as we left the court, "my opinion of that chap's cuteness strengthens every day! he _has_ intended, all along, to have another dig for the treasure. He expected to gain a day by being set down at Copenhagen; he gave away this picture simply because he didn't require it, having got safely away with the other; this may be only the copy."

"It looks like our old friend," I said moodily; "but one can't tell. Anyhow, we've lost, Jack; it's very sickening after all we've been through"--

"Nonsense, man! the battle isn't lost until it's won. Do you suppose Strong is going to win right off, in a day and a half? Why, there's a fortnight's hard digging in a garden of that size! Don't lose heart so easily, Peter, it doesn't become you."

It was all very well, I thought, for Jack to be sanguine and spirited. He had nothing hanging upon the issue of this matter, excepting the sporting desire to win, and the friendly wish that I--as his chum--should succeed. To me success was absolutely everything!

We caught a train on the Monday evening, and reached Flushing in due course; but the weather was so terribly stormy that the steamers were not running.

This circumstance put the coping-stone to my disgust and depression. It was too bad--too utterly unfortunate. The delay would cost us another twenty-four hours, every second of which time was a clear profit to Strong.

When the weather moderated, and the steamer was advertised to start in the evening, we found that an immense number of passengers had assembled to make the crossing. We obtained berths with difficulty, and at some additional expense. At supper I asked the steward whether his steamer was always crowded in this way.

"Oh dear, no, sir," said my friend; "most of these passengers have been waiting two days and more. We haven't run since the gale began--Sunday night." A moment later, the significance of this statement suddenly occurred to me.

"Why, Jack!" I exclaimed, "then"--

"Yes," said Jack. "Either he's on board now, or else he has seen us, and remained behind on shore; at anyrate there's been no digging done at Streatham."

"Thank God!" I exclaimed. "I was a brute to rave about bad luck, Jack, before I knew."

"Yes," said Jack, smiling; "the winds and waves and all the elements seem to have fought on our side this time, old man! It strikes me we are going to win yet."

At Queenborough Station, in the morning, we scrutinised every passenger that landed from the _Princess Clementine_. There were many pale, sea-sick, travel-worn people that came ashore to take train to London; but we were both certain that Strong was not among them. Neither did he alight at Victoria. There was no doubt about it; for once Strong's cleverness had been over-trumped by the forces of nature!

*CHAPTER XXXIX*

*DIGGING AGAIN*

Jack was determined to see me through with my treasure hunting, now--as we hoped--at its last stage, and came with me to Streatham without even a flying visit to his Gloucestershire home; which was good of old Jack.

Arrived at Streatham, we put up at the best hotel we could find, and lost no time in walking down to old Clutterbuck's house in the lower town. The place looked gloomy and forbidding, and we rang at the garden gate--the only entrance--with a feeling that our trouble was not quite over yet, and that in all probability the old man would have exerted his eccentric ingenuity to the uttermost in order to make the last stage of our search at least as difficult and toilsome as any, in spite of the seemingly simple instructions of the letter, which were merely to go and dig in his own garden at Streatham, and find what we should find.

As a matter of fact, we encountered one difficulty before getting farther than the garden gate--the _outside_ of it, I mean; for an old caretaker answered the ring, and, opening the door an inch or two, but without removing the chain which secured it, peeped out and asked us what we wanted.

I said that we had authority from its late master to take possession of the house and garden.

The old fellow produced from his pocket an envelope, from which he drew a scrap of paper.

"Is your name William Clutterbuck?" he asked.

"He's dead," I replied.

"James Strong?" he continued.

"Oh, hang it, no! not that blackguard," said Jack. "It's all right, old gentleman; this is Mr. Clutterbuck's heir."

The old caretaker took no notice of this remark.

"Charles Strong?" he continued, unmoved.

"He's dead too," I said.

"Ellis?" said the old fellow, doubling up his paper and preparing to return the envelope into his pocket.

"No," said I, "but"--

"Then you don't come in here," concluded the man, banging the door in our faces and double-locking it.

The old caretaker's arbitrary action nonplussed me for the moment.

"But my name is down in the will together with those you have read out," I cried through the panels. Jack stood and laughed. I heard the old man stumping towards the house. I shrieked out a repetition of my last appeal. He paused and spoke. An errand boy stopped to look on, and whistled "D'isy, D'isy, give me your answer do," so loudly that I could scarcely hear the reply.

"No, it ain't," shouted the old fellow back again. "For I copied these down from it myself, and there wasn't another. And what's more, this 'ere door don't git opened to no one else but these four, and if yer wants to git into the garden, yer'll 'ave to climb the wall and see what yer'll git from the dawg. He's loose in here--speak, Ginger!"

Ginger spoke, and the utterance was certainly alarming. Ginger's voice was a deep bass, and it seemed to say--unless my imagination gave it a meaning which it did not really possess--that it was as well for those outside that there was a wall between them and Ginger. It was ridiculous; but it was extremely aggravating also.

"But my name was added afterwards," I pleaded, while Ginger barked and Jack laughed, and the errand boy, interested, stopped whistling to hear the reply. This was not encouraging.

"Garn!" said the rude old man; "I know what I knows; you go and git yer 'air cut, and come back and show me the will."

"I can do that easily enough," I shouted, "and the lawyer who drew it up too, so you'd better save trouble and let me in at once."

"You find me a lawyer and a will as gives more than four names, and in you may walk," said the heroic caretaker; "and till then you can take yourself off or do the other thing--but out you stay!"

This was evidently the ultimatum, for the old fellow could be heard stumping up towards the house. The dog Ginger remained and continued his observations in the same tone until we retired. The errand boy remembered an engagement and departed, disappointed with us, no doubt. We ought, of course, to have scaled that wall and been eaten by Ginger in order adequately to perform our duty to that errand boy; but we had other views, and went and called on the lawyer, Steggins.

That good fellow was sincerely glad to see me, I believe, and to hear that I was the successful competitor up to this point. We told him--in skeleton form--of our adventures, promising him a detailed account if he would dine with us at the hotel, which he gladly undertook to do. Then we told him of our difficulties with the old caretaker, who had received his instructions, evidently, before my name had been added to the will. Steggins laughed.

"What, old Baines?" he said. "I'll soon put that right; we are old friends, he and I. But I'm afraid this other gentleman, Mr.----er"--

"Henderson," interposed that worthy.

"Mr. Henderson cannot take any part with yourself in the digging operations; the instructions are so clear that _only_ the successful competitor is to be allowed in the house or garden until the treasure has been found. Otherwise, you see, all the rest might have remained at home, and still have been in at the death, so to speak. They might simply wait till the report went about that you were busy digging in the garden, and would then come and take a hand on equal terms with you, who had had all the trouble."

This seemed true. It was annoying, however, that I was not to have the benefit of Jack's help in my last dig. As I told Jack, I had particularly wished him to have half the work of digging.

"And half the fun of being worried by Ginger!" added Jack; "thanks awfully, Peter. It will be rather fun to stand outside and hear you 'Good-dogging' Ginger, and presently your squalls when he lays hold of you!"

"Ginger's all right," laughed Steggins. "He's almost as old as his master, and hasn't a tooth in his head; besides, he's the friendliest of animals, and wouldn't injure a baby."

"His voice doesn't sound like it," I said. "Jack grew quite pale when he heard it." Jack shinned me under the table for this, I am sorry to say. He is a vindictive and un-Christian-like person, is Jack, when his pride is touched.

"Ginger's voice is his fortune," said Steggins; "it always has been; he's the finest dog for the other side of a wall that ever I saw."

I may say that presently, when Steggins had taken me down and introduced me to Baines and Ginger as the _bona fide_ heir-at-law, I found that Ginger was quite as benevolent a being as Steggins had described him. He was a St. Bernard, of enormous size and the very mildest of manners, and his voice was a complete fraud, for whereas it threatened gore and thunder, its real purport and intent were nothing more shocking than small beer or milk and water. For all he knew, I might have been a murderous desperado, but he took to me at sight, like David to Jonathan.

Old Baines, too, was polite enough on his own side of the wall, and showed me over the house and garden. He was surprised when I asked for spades, but produced one nevertheless; however, when he had watched me turn over the first few sods of turf, he retired muttering into the house, and I could see plainly enough that the new proprietor was, in his opinion, about to prove a disappointing master, inasmuch as he was harmlessly but hopelessly mad.

The garden measured sixty-three yards by forty-eight, and on that first morning of my solitary digging I ardently wished, with all my heart, that it had been one-quarter the size. For to dig up a garden of this area, and dig it deeply too, as the latest instructions suggested, and all by oneself, was a task involving more trouble than is agreeable, or ever has been, to the present scribe, who is no lover of monotonous drudgery.

There were a few trees here and there, but not a flower-bed in the place; the whole area was roughly covered with turf upon which coarse grass had been allowed to grow throughout the summer, which grass I was obliged to mow down with a scythe before I could proceed in any comfort with my digging.

Jack did not desert me, though he might not assist me on my own side of the wall. He remained at the hotel, where I lunched and dined with him daily; and during these meals we consulted upon my labours and the direction these should take; and sometimes Jack would come and carry on a conversation from the top of the wall, upon which he climbed when none were by to see. Ginger used to look up and wag his tail affectionately upon the stranger appearing in that unorthodox fashion within the domains he was kept to watch over. If Jack had been a burglar, Ginger could not have looked up more lovingly at him as he sat on the wall and gave the dog bits of biscuit.

Several days passed, and the late Mr. Clutterbuck's garden now resembled a ploughed field; but never a glint of gold had I struck yet, nor a glimmer of diamonds, nor the pale crisp delight of a bank-note or cheque.

Mr. Baines knew nothing, he protested, about anything whatsoever; he merely thought me a madman, and considered it the safer way to leave me entirely alone. I questioned him, now and again, as to whether he had ever observed the late lamented, whom he had served as _factotum_ in life, employed in digging or in taking measurements in the garden; but to all these inquiries Mr. Baines gave answers courteously but plainly pointing to one and the same conclusion--namely, that though old Clutterbuck had been undoubtedly a "skinflint" (as he picturesquely described the parsimonious character of the deceased), yet he had always shown himself a _sane_ skinflint, and therefore unlike the gentleman who now took his place as master of the establishment. By which Mr. Baines meant to infer that old Clutterbuck neither took measurements nor dug in the garden, and that I--who did both--must therefore be mad. He did not say so in as many words, but he made it pretty clear that this was his meaning.

There was no assistance to be got out of old Baines.

*CHAPTER XL*

*JACK PROVES HIMSELF A GENIUS*

After all, it was only natural that "the testator," desiring to give his heirs as much trouble as possible, should scarcely confide his secret to one who would probably reveal it, afterwards, to the first that offered him half a crown for the information.