Chapter VI: Part III: Hurricane Island (6)

To say the least of it, Tom was stunned: the packet had been seized with such lightning rapidity that he had scarcely even seen the mysterious hand. At first, after his consternation at seeing the key to the secret disappear in such a way, just when he had felt it in his grasp, he could hardly collect his thoughts; it overwhelmed him.

Thoroughly exasperated and throwing prudence to the winds, he darted forward, intent on getting that packet back from this extraordinary thief. There was no one anywhere near the cabins; he closely examined all of them. The invisible thief was nowhere to be found. It was still light enough for him to be able to distinguish every detail on the upper deck; there was no hiding-place large enough for a cat, let alone a human being, and Tom experienced a sudden feeling of dread. "Whatever is it?" he thought. "Am I beginning to have delusions ... or to see visions?"

He heard Captain Hawkins' voice on the bridge, and he was fearful lest he should be discovered. Deadly white, he turned to port and climbed back into the boat. Just as he was about to lie down and pull the tarpaulin over him, he felt a strong arm pressing him down and a hand was laid over his mouth.

"Not a sound," said a low, deep voice, "it is I."

Tom's heart jumped into his mouth and then began to beat violently.

"Wallion?" he whispered, wild with delight and relief. "Oh, Maurice, I thought I should never hear your voice again," and he flung his arms round his friend's neck.

The Problem Solver was quite himself, but in the calm gray eyes it was easy to read how glad he was to see Tom.

"How in the world did you get here?" asked the latter, breathlessly. "Toroni was positive he had shot you, and I myself saw you..."

"Oh, no; things don't go so easily as that," answered Wallion. "When Toroni fired his shot I pretended to stagger, and fell backwards into the sea. I thought it was a good opportunity to let him think I was out of the reckoning. He is a splendid shot, though he is still more expert with the knife. So I did a dive, swam out a good distance, and when I came up again the row-boat was just starting. Then after swimming a little farther I let the boat pass, and followed it at a convenient distance as far as the yacht; and when you came up I was lying snugly hidden in the starboard boat. Had you chosen that retreat we should have been in one another's company from the first; still it is just as well you didn't, as for a little while I had to hide in a deck-cabin, whilst they turned out and cleaned the boat. I was afraid to wake you during the night, and by day it was, of course, impossible ... but how are you off for food?"

Tom put on a woeful expression and Wallion grinned.

"I've got a little something to begin with," he said, producing two long loaves, a tin of salmon, a piece of smoked sausage and two bottles of beer.

Tom must be excused for not doing more than casting a look of thanksgiving up to the sky by way of gratitude, as he fell upon the feast. With the aid of his knife Wallion skilfully opened the tin, uncorked the bottles without the least noise, and both set to with a voracious appetite.

"What do you think of the conversation among our three fellow travelers?" asked Wallion after a pause.

Tom, having appeased the most insistent pangs of hunger, said, with a touch of curiosity: "Then you heard it too?"

"Yes, I had made myself quite comfortable in the cabin; Dixon is a fine fellow, isn't he? You didn't seem to worry though; any one might have seen your head a thousand yards away...."

"You didn't trouble either," retorted Tom. "Of course, I was rather taken aback when the packet disappeared before my very eyes."

Wallion laughed and held it up.

"You see, in spite of that, the thing hasn't got lost," he said. He untied the string and unrolled the oilcloth, revealing several sheets of note-paper, covered with writing in a bold, clear hand.

"Let us take advantage of the daylight remaining and read William Robertson's notes whilst we are still undisturbed."

He smiled at Tom as he said: "Do you know I am beginning to feel quite nervous, for in another ten minutes the King Solomon secret and the purpose of the wooden dolls will be known to us? Such moments are well worth all the trouble engendered by one's vague speculations.... Just now I would not exchange these scraps of paper for the six millions Dixon talked about."

It almost looked as if he were going to postpone the reading.

"Quick, quick, I am dying to know..." ejaculated Tom.

"Well, we deserve it," said Wallion. Spreading out the documents, he bent over them and began to read. William Robertson's notes had the following introduction:

"Below will be found a true and, as far as possible, complete account of the destruction of the 'King Solomon,' set down here that, in case of my death, it may prove of use to those who have an indisputable right to the precious contents of that ship.

"On August the fifteenth, 1902, the full-rigged American cutter, 'King Solomon' started from Nome in Alaska for Seattle. The owners were Fraser, Hutchinson and Co., of Seattle, but this firm ceased to exist many years ago. On that voyage the vessel (500 tons) was commanded by Captain John P. Howell. Though not quite new, it was well-equipped; the crew consisted of eleven men only, because ten others had gone to the gold-fields. The insufficient number left was probably one of the causes of the disaster which overtook the ship later. There were thirteen passengers on board, twelve of whom were diggers, and a heap of gold as well. I, the undersigned, was also there, accompanied by Sandy McCormick, a Scotchman, and my two Swedish friends, Victor and Christian Dreyel; we four had been working a claim discovered by McCormick in the course of the summer, and each, of us had gold on him to about the value of 200,000 dollars. We soon made acquaintance with the other passengers, of whom Craig Russel, a splendid man of the indomitable bandit type, nicknamed 'crazy or looney Russel' was the most important, seeing he had with him gold to the tune of 1,200,000 dollars. The other twelve were: Nicholas Sanderson, an elderly, quiet, unobtrusive Englishman; Aaron Payter; 'Colonel' Hyppolite Xerxes Symes, a well-educated, merry mulatto; Frederick O'Bryan, an Irishman; Jean Rameau, a Canadian; Phil Murray and Walter Randolph, two young Englishmen. The amount each one of these had on him in gold is recorded in the accompanying list.

"The thirteenth passenger, however, was a stranger unknown to any of us; he had no gold whatever, and his name was Toroni. No one knew where he hailed from, for he kept silent and aloof; but he was supposed to be an Italian. His melancholy demeanor seemed to presage ill-luck, and had a most depressing influence on all of us; so he was called 'No. 13 Toroni.'

"On board 'Looney Russel' was, so to say, boss. We, who with indescribable trouble and hard work, had wrested treasure from the desert, felt on our way back to civilized life like rich men; and naturally, we were constantly in a jovial frame of mind which did not always find vent in the choicest expressions.

"The gold, mostly well-washed nuggets, was in leather sacks, sealed, and packed in oak chests with iron bands. These chests or boxes--small, but too heavy for one man to lift--were fifteen in number, each being inscribed with a name. They were piled up in the saloon, and constant watch kept over them. Wild scenes took place in that saloon, in which gold to the amount of nearly six million dollars was stored.

"'Looney' Russel, by reason of his wealth and his tremendous physical strength, had constituted himself king of the revels; whisky flowed in streams, and gambling and drink were the order of the day. Russel, O'Brien, Rameau and Murray were the most inveterate gamblers, and hardly left the poker-table night or day. Toroni very soon chummed up with them; why I don't know, as he had never been looked upon with favor.

"Captain Howell tried to put a stop to these orgies, but failed. The second day of the voyage there was a great storm, the 'King Solomon,' running before the wind, with top and foresail in ribbons. She had carried too much canvas as we were all anxious to get on ahead, but most of the desperadoes were too drunk to be of much use. Only the cousins Dreyel, the commander, and I, knew the state the crew were in, and foresaw, with great uneasiness, the impending catastrophe....

"On the morning of the third day, soon after four o'clock, the disaster overtook us. I heard shots in the saloon, and ran, only half awake, out of my cabin. Poker had been going on all night; Russel and Murray had lost fabulous sums to Toroni. Apparently Randolph had tried to persuade his friend Murray to leave off playing, but his well-meant interference had led to a general shindy.

"Then Russel suddenly found out that Toroni had cheated; and, mad drunk, drew his revolver and fired at Toroni, without hitting him. Captain Howell, who flung himself between them, had Toroni seized and locked up in his own cabin. But as I was leaving the saloon, Russel fired a second shot, and Captain Howell fell dead on the floor with a bullet through his head.

"Bellowing like a bull, the madman retreated to the companion ladder, firing at random as he went; Rameau got a bullet in his stomach, and died sitting in his chair. Murray, Randolph, and I drew our revolvers, but Russel darted up on deck, and when we went after him met us with a succession of shots from both his weapons at once. Murray fell, hit by two bullets, the mulatto, Symes, was wounded in the arm and Randolph in the head.

"The crew, already short-handed, were scared by these terrible events, and particularly by the death of their captain; the pilot left the wheel to escape the bullets, and 'King Solomon' fell off her course. In less than a minute the ship presented her broadside to the waves and rolled so heavily that I thought we should go down at any moment. The first mate and two sailors went overboard while attempting to shorten sail and heave to; heavy seas broke over every part of the ship and stopped the fighting. 'Looney' Russel had disappeared in a wave and was seen no more.

"The second mate took over the command, but could not make himself heard. The ship drifted helplessly; the foremast went overboard, got caught in the tackle, and in a short time made a leak on the larboard side. The pumps were manned, but every one on board knew that 'King Solomon' was doomed. Then some one shouted: 'Save the gold.' 'We'll thank God if we can save our lives,' the second mate replied.

"At 6 A.M. the life boats were launched in a sea the waves of which were mountain high; the long boat and the launch were dashed to pieces at once, but the quarter-boats were kept clear. Panic, however, reigned supreme--every one was madly intent on saving his own life. Six of the crew leapt into one of the quarter-boats with Sanderson, O'Bryan and McCormick, pushed off, and were swept away in the dark; that was the last I saw of them. I had no time to think, and I don't believe any one thought of the gold. Those of us still on board were making frantic efforts to lower the second quarter-boat. Then the mizzen mast broke, and a falling spar struck me; I fell unconscious down the cabin stairs, where I was washed into a corner with no one to help me. The rest of the ship's company, viz.: the second mate, the mulatto, Symes, Payter, Randolph, and the two Dreyels, left in the other quarter-boat, and the wreck drifted aimlessly in an easterly direction with me and six million dollars in gold on board.

"When I regained consciousness it was broad daylight, the storm had abated, and 'King Solomon' floated low and deep on the big waves. I thought I was alone on board, but presently. I fancied I heard a faint knocking on the cabin door. It was Toroni, who had been locked in and forgotten! I let him out and we considered our position. There was one boat left on the ship,--the small gig,--but even that was badly damaged by the waves. It looked as if 'King Solomon' were about to sink at any minute, and we set to work repairing the gig. There was food in plenty, but we did not allow ourselves time to eat. The fifteen boxes of gold still stood in the saloon, but we did not care to look at them, and whilst we were at work 'King Solomon' still drifted eastward. I can't say whether it was on the second or third day after the shipwreck that we sighted land--those terrible days and nights are confused in my mind--but there _was_ land at last, and 'King Solomon' glided slowly in between two islands, divided by a broad channel. No houses, people or boats were to be seen, and the rocky shore did not look very inviting. 'King Solomon's' voyage was ended. The wreck began to sink rapidly in mid-channel; there was just time to push off the gig before the ship went down; and it was not till she had sunk that I realized what a loss was mine, that my hardly-won gold--and that of my mates--was lying at the bottom of the sea and that I was ruined. Fortunately the ship's instruments were in the boat; and with a vague thought that I might return some day and retrieve the gold from the deep, I fixed the place where 'King Solomon' had sunk by seconds--for though the coast furnished infallible landmarks, the channel was more than a mile in breadth--and then ascertained that the wreck lay at a depth of about ten fathoms. Toroni was present but he had no knowledge of navigation and I am now aware that he made no copy of the bearings I fixed.

"Now as to the place: it lies among the islands that run along the coast to the most southerly part of Alaska. The largest of these is called 'Hurricane Island,' and is a rocky, deserted place, cut in two by the 'Black Valley,' which is covered in part by forest, and opposite the smaller 'Fir Island.' The channel between the islands is five miles long and one or two wide, with a depth varying from eight to twenty-five fathoms; there it was 'King Solomon' went to the bottom. When I had thus located the wreck Toroni and I hoisted a sail and departed in a southerly direction. On the eighteenth day we were sighted by a Norwegian barque, bound for San Francisco.

"Of our condition at that time I will only say that the hardships we had gone through had affected our minds; that we were half-starved and feverish, and could not even give an account of what had happened. I was perfectly stunned by the catastrophe. We parted at San Francisco.

"I was told afterwards that the first quarterdeck boat had been lost, leaving no trace behind, but the second had reached land with Victor and Christian Dreyel as sole survivors. The papers did not get hold of the facts, and only one, a San Francisco paper, had a short notice to the effect that 'King Solomon' had gone down with all hands on board. That notice was the cause of my wife's death. I was..."

Here Wallion turned a few leaves and remarked:

"We are already acquainted with William's illness and his fifteen years of crazy wandering; we will skip that."

They continued with the reading.

"The finding of my daughter was a turning-point for me; I began to make plans for the recovery of the gold which had lain so long at the bottom of the sea, but that required funds. I put myself in communication with the next of kin of the men who had perished on the 'King Solomon,' and took steps to find their heirs. Then an unexpected thing happened. I came across Toroni in the street one day, under circumstances which clearly showed that he was spying upon me, and it was borne in upon me that some one wanted to steal the papers giving particulars of the place where the wreck lay. I was terribly worried. Partly to pass away the time I had carved wooden figures to represent myself and my eleven companions in misfortune, and had numbered them according to the accompanying list. I destroyed the notes referring to 'King Solomon' after having engraved numbers denoting longitude and latitude on the feet of those dolls which bore even numbers--the latitude in degrees, minutes and seconds on dolls numbered 2, 4, and 6, and the longitude on those numbered 8, 10, and 12. As an additional measure of precaution I sent the two dolls which gave the seconds to the two Dreyel cousins. It was a well-conceived plan; for two days later--I don't know how--the rest of the dolls were stolen. This discovery aggravated my illness, and I felt that I did, indeed, require medical advice.

"But I fell from the frying-pan into the fire, and am now virtually a prisoner in Doctor Corman's villa. Edward Dixon is hoodwinking Elaine, and I cannot do anything to save myself. I am writing this in hopes that it may bring this diabolical plot to the notice of the authorities. Toroni is the prime mover in it; all these years, thoughts of the six millions must have been seething in his brain. I got to know that in 1904 he had made a secret attempt to get up the gold at Hurricane Island by himself. That was foolish; divers and modern appliances are required for such a purpose. Moreover, it is easier to find 'a needle in a bottle of hay' than to find a wreck ten fathoms below the surface, in a channel half a Swedish mile in length and over two miles in breadth. I cannot say whether he was preparing for a bolder stroke; at any rate, soon after, a decided obstacle came in the way.

"In 1913 a man, of the name of Compton, reported that he had discovered rich copper mines in the Black Valley on Hurricane Island; a company was formed, hundreds of workmen were sent out and operations on a large scale begun. The legend of the copper mine was exploded in 1917, and the islands were deserted. Now was Toroni's chance, he looked about for a capitalist and found ... Edward Attiswood Dixon, who appeared to make large deals and whose means were so ample that he no longer engaged in any regular business. He gladly agreed to Toroni's proposal; and for a ridiculously small sum acquired Hurricane Island and Fir Island, with the buildings left there by the former copper mine company. Officially he gave out that he meant to erect a repairing station for vessels trading between Alaska and the States; he did, in fact, build a breakwater with all modern improvements for sheltering ships, but that was only a blind to cover his search for the wreck of 'King Solomon,' which was begun without delay. The search came to nothing; it only proved that my notes were indispensible. Then they got at Elaine, and through her I was enticed to leave my secluded quarters. Her engagement in Dixon's office and my incarceration at Doctor Corman's were only small items in their plans, but I was not going to give away the secret of 'King Solomon,' if I could help it! I am hoping to escape, and as it may be necessary to get the two dolls back from the Dreyel cousins. I shall try to persuade Elaine to help me. If these papers should fall into the hands of honest people, I hope they will straightway send them to Headquarters.

"Seattle, July the third, 1918,
"William Robertson."

"LIST OF THE OWNERS OF THE GOLD."

1. William Robertson, only relative, one daughter, Elaine . . . 200,000 dollars

2. Nicholas Sanderson (drowned), probable relatives at West Hartlepool, England . . . 600,000 dollars

3. Craig Russel (drowned), family in Chicago, one brother in Melbourne . . . 1,200,000 dollars

4. Christian Dreyel, domiciled in Sweden, Captain Street, Borne . . . 200,000 dollars

5. Victor Dreyel, cousin of the above, domiciled in Sweden, 30 John Street, Stockholm . . . 200,000 dollars

6. Aaron Payter (died in boat, no relations . . . 800,000 dollars

7. Frederick O'Bryan (drowned), wife in Dublin, 142 Green Street . . . 800,000 dollars

8. Hippolyte Xerxes Byrnes (died in boat), probably mother and sisters in Louisiana . . . 500,000 dollars

9. Jean Rameau (shot on board), three sisters in Ontario . . . 200,000 dollars

10. Sandy McCormick (drowned), no relations . . . 200,000 dollars

11. Phil Murray (shot on board), parents in a village in Sussex, England . . . 600,000 dollars

12. Walter Randolph (died in boat), possibly relatives in Wales or Cornwall, England . . . 300,000 dollars

"Total . . . 5,800,000 dollars"

Wallion and Tom looked up from the last page at one another. It had grown so dark that they could hardly decipher the final lines.

"What do you think of that?" whispered Tom.

"It is beyond my most sanguine expectations," replied Wallion.

He rolled the papers up again in the oilcloth.

"What do you intend to do?" inquired his friend.

"I intend to replace the packet in Dixon's coat pocket. If he were to miss it and give the alarm, that would be an end to our liberty."

Wallion wriggled out of the boat and restored the packet to its place, after which he returned to his hiding-place; without a word he lay down on his back with hands clasped under his head. Tom, who thought his friend must be turning over in his mind the amazing story they had just read, did not venture to break the silence for a time. At last one of the thousand questions with which his brain was teeming could no longer be restrained.

"Maurice," he said, "do you think McTuft has any idea where we are?"

Receiving no answer, he bent down to look at his friend and repeat his question.

Maurice Wallion was sound asleep.

*CHAPTER XIX*

*WHERE THOMAS FALLS INTO THE
HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES*

Next morning there was a strong wind, and the yacht pitched a good deal; the violent motion woke Tom to find Wallion already awake. A shower of rain came down, but under the tarpaulin, though rather cramped, they were dry. Now that the mystery of the wooden dolls was solved, Wallion resumed his usual placid demeanor. They breakfasted on salmon, bread and sausage and then, in subdued tones, discussed the information gleaned from William Robertson's notes.

"It never occurred to me that 'King Solomon' might be a wrecked vessel," remarked Wallion thoughtfully. "I wish I had known that three days ago; it rather alters the situation. Evidently our adversaries do not contemplate a long delay; they have brought divers, and all is clear at the so-called 'wharf.' Having located the spot only a few hours are required for hauling up the gold. I wonder..."

He laid his finger on his lips and his hand on Tom's arm; footsteps could be heard on deck.

"Thursday morning," said Doctor Corman irascibly, "that is rather late, Dixon."

"Rubbish! Why?" asked the owner of the yacht.

"Why? Because I am under no delusion about what we have left behind. Wallion is out of the reckoning" (here the latter pinched Tom's arm), "but don't forget McTuft, who was at Toroni's heels, and Wallion's Swedish friend, too, would not be idle either; it is quite possible that he was at the Golden Snake Hotel with Wallion. William Robertson has been set at liberty ere this, and would, naturally, tell all he knows. In short," said the Doctor with bitterness, "there is no lack of witnesses who can swear that we went out on a trip whence we shall require no return tickets."

"Fudge," said Dixon again, "the ocean is large."

"Answer me one thing," interrupted the Doctor. "How is it our wireless has received no inquiries about the 'Ariadne' from either incoming or out-going vessels?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Well, I can tell you: it is because we are being tracked, and it was probably known that same evening that we were on board her. As they don't seem to be making inquiries about the yacht, I conclude they know all about her, that very likely a patrol-boat is chasing us already; and if they have discovered our final destination they will make straight for Hurricane Island and as likely as not arrive there before us."

A mournful silence followed this speech.

"I should say you're right about that," said Dixon.

"I'll just have a talk with the captain."

He was back again in five minutes.

"Hawkins says that with this wind the 'Ariadne' can be at Hurricane Island by Wednesday evening, if I will take the risk of the boiler bursting," he said evidently greatly relieved.

"Well?" growled the Doctor.

"I said," continued Dixon, rather brutally, "I didn't mind if the 'Ariadne' were shivered to atoms, provided he landed us safely on Hurricane Island by mid-day Wednesday, at the latest."

The Doctor, apparently satisfied, said nothing more, and, judging by the sound, the two men had turned back towards their cabins. Dixon had picked up the coat he had forgotten.

"Corman is no fool," remarked Wallion. "I was just going to say I wonder how far McTuft has got. When he gave up the black car, he very likely went back to the 'Golden Snake,' where he would be told that the 'Ariadne' had put out to sea. A patrol-boat would have been put at his disposal yesterday morning at latest, and a nice race it will be, indeed. I should rather like to give him a few choice bits of information...."

"Information as to what?" asked Tom.

"That there are always means of evasion," said Wallion suavely. "I only wish I had my faithful Browning."

"But tell me, do you think Captain Hawkins and the crew would come over to our side if we explained the situation to them?"

"H--m! I don't feel inclined to run the risk; my papers of identification are at the bottom of the sea near the Golden Snake Hotel, because I took off my shoes and coat when I swam out to the yacht. The coat I am wearing now I borrowed from the Captain's exceedingly well-stocked wardrobe." He laughed, but immediately became grave again. "No, my friend, if we were to show ourselves now, that precious 'Italian Detective' would have us shut up as members of the 'Black Hand.'" He pondered a while, and then remarked philosophically: "We must leave it to time, we have no particular inducement for interfering; besides, the 'Ariadne' is taking us precisely where we want to go...."

"To Hurricane Island? I am not particularly keen on going there, especially in company with these gentlemen," replied Tom; "the place is so infernally out of the way too."

"That can't be helped," said Wallion, "business must always be settled in its proper place and at the proper time."

Soon the smoke from the tall, yellow funnel grew thicker and thicker, until it rolled in a compact black mass over the water. The vibration increased, and the noise of the propeller became louder; evidently the engines were working at the highest possible pressure. The strain had begun.

"Look here," said Wallion, much interested, "this abnormal speed shows the captain is keeping his word; by twelve o'clock the 'Ariadne' will be lying at anchor off Hurricane Island."

* * * * *

The yacht's wireless was installed behind the bridge and connected with the chart-house. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of the operator, a pale young man named Moreland. He had not much to do, and sometimes left his apparatus for an hour or two; consequently no messages were sent, and calls were left unanswered.

On the bridge, taking turns with Captain Hawkins, they noticed a young, smart-looking ship's officer, whom the captain addressed as "Weston." These two were evidently the only men in authority. Wallion took the crew to consist of five or six men only.

About 2 P.M., Tom experienced a sudden, most delightful thrill. Elaine Robertson appeared on deck; she was accompanied by Madame Lorraine, and the two walked up and down for nearly fifteen minutes, without uttering a word. Elaine seemed grave and worried; at every turn she stopped for a few seconds and looked wistfully towards the horizon. Did she hope she might see the smoke of a liner? Perhaps; but all around nothing was to be seen but passing clouds; and eventually she and Madame Lorraine went below. In the afternoon there was no one on the bridge.

Tom yawned; he was bored to death. He and Wallion had come to the end of their provisions. Night had fallen.

* * * * *

After some hours of troubled sleep Tom awoke; the hard bottom of the boat was not exactly an ideal resting place; moreover, he was very hungry. It was still dark, but most of the night had passed and day was dawning in the East. He tried to look at his watch but could not see the hands; by his side Wallion continued fast asleep.

Two days and nights of enforced idleness had begun to tell on Tom. He did not like his unshaven chin; he was not accustomed--like his friend--to such small sacrifices on the altar of his profession; his muscles were stiff and his hunger astounding. If Wallion had been so successful in procuring food, why should not he?

The "Ariadne" sped through the darkness with no lights showing. Now and again Captain Hawkins might be seen walking to and fro on the bridge with long and resolute strides.

The pantry was only a little way off, and Tom supposed he might get there under cover. He determined to make the attempt.

The next time the Captain's steps turned to starboard, Tom leapt down on the deck and stole to the stairs; below, everything was dark and quiet. Automatically he counted the steps, of which there were eighteen, to the bottom, where the edge of a red carpet was visible. After some hesitation he stealthily walked down one step at a time, until he found himself standing on a red carpet. A corridor opened in front of him, and on either side were three closed doors; behind him, on the right of the stairs, was the saloon, and on the left a kind of store-room. He could see distinctly to the end of the corridor, thanks to a little electric lamp on the ceiling, and he noticed a door which he supposed would lead to the fore-part of the ship. With noiseless steps he made for it, but when he was about half-way along the corridor he had to put out his hands to save himself from falling. He had caught his foot in a piece of string which he could not shake off, and an electric bell close by was ringing, not loudly but continuously. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He made another desperate effort to free his foot, and broke the string.

The bell ceased to ring, but at the same moment three lamps in the ceiling flashed on. A door opened, and Doctor Corman stepped out, clad only in his pyjamas. He looked at Tom, and said with great deliberation:

"I see I was right; I suspected you were on board, and thought of proposing a search to-morrow. You are very welcome, Mr. Murner; there's a special cabin waiting for you."

Tom took a step forward, but a pair of strong arms gripped him from behind and held him as in an iron vice; it was Toroni. The owner of the yacht appeared at the same time, half-dressed, revolver in hand.

"What's up now?" said Dixon angrily. "Your alarm arrangement, Toroni, is the very ... Hallo!" he exclaimed as he caught sight of Tom, changing the pungent expletive he was going to use. He burst into a loud guffaw of satisfaction and surprise. "Well, who'd have thought it? _You_ here? It's more than forty-eight hours since the 'Ariadne' weighed anchor, and you have lain low until now ... Why so bashful? I trust you will not deprive us again of your pleasant company."

"It takes two for that," was Tom's infuriated answer.

He hurled himself with great violence upon Toroni, who missed his footing, uttered a vile oath, and losing hold of Tom, allowed him to slip between Corman and Dixon, who knocked the revolver out of Dixon's hand in his mad rush for the stairs. Where he should go next he had not the least notion, but he thought his first and most important duty was to divert attention from Wallion and their place of concealment in the larboard boat. But his adversaries were too quick for him. On the lowest step he was stopped and seized by three pairs of hands. He struggled for a few minutes, but gave in when he found the muzzle of a pistol pointing at him.

"That's right, take things easy," said Dixon, in a tone bordering on friendliness. "We shall come to terms before long."

Tom breathed hard, but submitted to his fate in silence. Dixon looked up, listening intently. Tom feared that Wallion had betrayed himself by some impetuous movement in the boat, but Dixon was not looking in its direction. The wireless installation stood out against the bright, blue sky, and an intermittent crackling sound made itself plainly heard from above. Dixon ran up the stairs.

"What the devil are you doing, Moreland?" he shouted. "Are you mad?"

"Moreland is not here," answered the captain from the bridge. "He went to bed about eleven, Mr. Dixon."

The wireless had stopped short, Dixon looked up at the cables in anger and consternation.

"Who is sending a message?" he asked.

"Don't know," said the captain. "Weston says that two messages were sent during the night, we thought it might be Mr. Ferail."

"Confound it all," roared Dixon, white with fury. "Call out the crew, there is a spy on board."

A whistle sounded and the captain rushed up to the wireless room. Dixon pushed Tom back into the corridor, gave him a look which boded no good, and asked: "Who was with you?"

"I shan't tell you," Tom answered. He strongly suspected that Wallion had been in the wireless room, and he was fully determined not to admit anything.

"Was it McTuft?"

"No."

With a side glance at Toroni, Dixon said:

"Has a miracle happened? Was it Wallion?"

Tom moved impatiently.

"What's the use of asking me?" he said. "Do you believe I should be likely to give you any answer?"

Dixon, by this time more calm and sober, surveyed him attentively; his face wore an expression of cool determination.

"Shut him up in a safe place," he said to Corman and Toroni. Then he went on deck, and Tom heard him shout:

"Are you there, Weston? Take three men with you and search the boat thoroughly. Well, Captain Hawkins?"

"There's no one in the room, Mr. Dixon, but Moreland is there on duty now."

"All right, keep your eyes open, all of you.... A hundred dollars for the man who catches the spy. I shall expect to be face to face with him in half-an-hour...."

The voices sounded farther away. Toroni and the Doctor led Tom down the corridor. They unlocked a door on the starboard side, and signed to Tom to go in. The door was double-locked after him and he found himself shut in a narrow, but luxuriously furnished, cabin lighted by a lamp, with a yellow silk shade, fixed in the wall. He put out the lamp, for daylight already began to filter through the small port-holes, and forgetting his own pitiable plight he listened anxiously for what might be going on outside.

*CHAPTER XX*

*ELAINE TELLS THE TRUTH*

Tom heard orders given overhead and footsteps in all parts of the boat, but nothing to indicate that Wallion had been found. He had such unbounded faith in his friend's ingenuity and dexterity that he believed it quite possible that Wallion would succeed in escaping from his pursuers.

For a whole hour the noise continued to increase, then suddenly all was silent. A long way off, Dixon's voice could be heard, raised in anger. The Doctor seemed to be trying to soothe him. The two men were apparently going down the stairs.

Tom felt less anxious now. Clearly, in some unaccountable manner, Wallion had disappeared. He looked round his by no means horrible prison; behind some beaded drapery he discovered a small dressing-room, with hot and cold water laid on. There, too, he found a shaving kit, and managed to make quite a decent and comfortable toilet. Then he helped himself to a Virginia cigarette from a box of beaten copper and sat down with a sigh of resignation.

The "Ariadne" pursued her way, always at top speed; the black smoke cast long shadows on the water and the seething breakers beat against the little window.

About 10 A.M. the door opened, and a steward made an unexpected appearance.

"Mr. Dixon requests Mr. Murner's presence in the saloon," he said.

With mixed feelings Tom obeyed the summons. On entering he found Dixon, Corman and Toroni seated at a large table, and Hawkins standing before them.

"Well, Hawkins," said Dixon. "Here you see one of them, and if we can only catch the other we shall be all right. They are two of the most dangerous members of the 'Black Hand'...."

"That's a lie," broke in Tom angrily. "I am a Swede, and my name is Thomas Murner. Look here, here are my..." He was going to say "papers" but when he put his hand in his pocket he found they had gone; his pocket-book had been taken from him during the struggle in the corridor.

"Your _what_?" said Dixon derisively. "Your weapon? No, you are harmless for the present, my friend. We found your hiding place in the larboard boat. Detective Ferail, my guest, has reason to be proud of his catch. Now tell us who your companion was, and where he has gone to?"

Tom bit his lip and said nothing. It was not worth while entering into any explanation with Hawkins, who, simple and honest seafaring man man as he was, surveyed him with some curiosity and distrust.

"So you won't answer?" continued Dixon. "You can go now, Captain, and resume the the search until the other fellow is found."

The captain took his leave. When he had gone Dixon burst out laughing. "You _do_ look surprised, Mr. Murner; isn't our little joke to your taste? I am afraid it will have to be carried on a little longer though; but, no doubt, you understand that resistance can only lead to harder conditions, and make matters worse for you, and that, with or without your consent, you must be our guest until the gold is hauled up. You see?" He gave Tom a cold and searching look.

"And then?" inquired Tom as calmly as he could.

"After that our ways will lie apart, you and your bashful, retiring friend will be sent on a little pleasure trip to ... shall we say ... Australia? Naturally, under the supervision of our good Hawkins."

Toroni remarked quietly:

"Much too much talk. I should have settled this business in a much simpler manner..."

"Misleading the police is quite enough," said Corman with evident disgust, and without looking at Toroni. "Our record is already sufficiently long."

One of the two doors Tom had noticed at the farther end of the saloon was thrown open, and Madame Lorraine with a cigarette between her lips walked in. She neither showed the least surprise nor took any notice of Tom, but turned to her brother and asked:

"Whatever is all the commotion on deck about?"

"There's some one on board we should rather like to get hold of," replied the Doctor. "You keep out of the way, it is nothing that concerns you."

Madame emitted a puff of smoke.

"Have you really searched everywhere?" she said with indifference. "Who can he be?"

"Well, we must see. There is no danger, but for safety's sake I just went in to have a look at Elaine. She seemed rather upset. You can comfort her, can't you?"

"Poor little thing," said Madame Lorraine, "I'll look after her..."

She threw the stump of her cigarette on an ash-tray and went out by the other door, closing it after her. Tom inferred that the cabins at the back of the saloon had been reserved for the two ladies.

"I suppose it is useless to put any more questions to you, Mr. Murner?" said Dixon after a pause.

"Perfectly useless."

"You won't even explain how you managed to come on board?"

"Certainly not."

"In that case I have only one piece of advice to give you. Hold your tongue and you won't have any complaint to make about your treatment here so long as you are my guest. Now, may I request you to return to your cabin? The steward will see that you have everything, except ... your liberty."

Tom turned on his heels and went back to his cabin. Ten minutes later the waiter brought in a tray with a liberal breakfast. As he was eating Tom heard a quiet knock at the closed door. He looked at it in surprise. A white card had been pushed under it and lay on the floor. It was one of Wallion's visiting cards, and in the firm handwriting he knew so well, he read:

"Situation promising. Hold yourself in readiness. Our day is
coming.--M.W."

Tom ran to the door and shook it, but there was no sound. He gently whispered Wallion's name; there was no response, but in a second or two the steward came up and asked from the outside:

"Did you require anything more, sir?"

"No, thank you, nothing," answered Tom. He flung himself down on the bed. Those few words on the card had been like refreshing wine to him. The blood mounted to his head, and his nerves tingled, but he was at a loss--turn or twist the words as he might--to account for such a message. Wallion's audacity, too, almost frightened him. How was all this to end?

Certain signs indicated that the "Ariadne" was approaching her journey's end, and Tom began to get fidgety. For safety's sake he tore the card to bits, which he threw out of a porthole. In the east, land could be discerned, and the boat, still at top speed, passed a number of islands, sometimes nearer, sometimes further away, gray and red, with dabs of dark woods.

Lunch was served at two o'clock, but Tom's appetite was gone.

"Shall we soon be there?" he asked.

"In about another hour," replied the steward civilly, but he beat a hasty retreat to avoid any further inquiries.

An hour went by. Tom walked restlessly up and down in his tiny cabin. Then bit by bit a high mountain ridge came in sight about a thousand yards away, and a little later, when the yacht had slackened speed, a steep arid coast in some parts covered with tall firs, and then a wide valley with lighter foliage in the background. The engines stopped, and the yacht anchored about a hundred yards from a dilapidated wooden pier. The "Ariadne" had reached her goal.

So this was Hurricane Island, and over there the "Black Valley"? On the left Tom noticed a jumble of sheds and chimneys.

The wharf mentioned was a very simple affair, there was no work going on, but a score of men came out on the quay, from mere curiosity. At some distance down the valley could be seen a skeleton swing-bridge, leading into a dark hole on the mountain side; this was the deserted copper mine; but, save for this reminder of bygone industry, the surrounding country was desolate.

A large motor boat came out from the quay, and when it got alongside the "Ariadne" Tom noticed at the wheel a man who might have been the foreman of the wharf. He had evidently come to welcome his employers. The boat slipped round to the bow of the yacht and the Captain shouted from the bridge:

"Mr. Dixon is engaged, but lay to and come on board."

There was a high sea and the yacht rocked considerably. Things began to be very lively on deck and Tom wondered what was going on.

The steward came in hurriedly to remove the luncheon tray, and Tom had a shock.

This time the man had left the door unlocked! Tom listened, thinking he might come back. In the direction of the stairs, he heard Dixon's voice in sharp altercation with the Doctor.

"It is impossible," he was saying; "it can't be done now, the sea is too rough. We shall have to wait an hour or two."

"In an hour or two it may be too late," the Doctor replied.

"I don't think so. Besides it takes time to fix upon the exact place...."

"Well, and what about this Swede's friend whom we couldn't catch?"

"Haven't we thoroughly searched every nook and cranny? There wasn't a spot as big as a dollar left for any one to hide in. He isn't here, Corman. The wireless has given out, that is the solution of..." Their voices died away and they went up on deck.

Tom strained every nerve, trying to impress upon his memory the things he had heard; he conquered his desire to rush out, for Wallion's instructions had only been "keep himself in readiness." And Wallion was at liberty, probably with a deep scheme in his mind. Trembling with excitement he muttered, "Let us hope it won't be long ... if only I knew."

The yacht tugged at her cables, and Fir Island presently came in view. It was smaller and more wooded than Hurricane Island, and looked as if the foot of man had never trodden there.

The "Ariadne" lay about midway in the long and broad channel, through which the waters flowed freely, and there was still a high sea running, though the storm had abated; the clouds were heavy and twilight was falling. The motor boat was towing a low, flat-bottomed barge, laden with a variety of mysterious implements, towards some point which Tom was unable to see. Immediately afterwards the yacht again weighed anchor and slowly proceeded in the same direction, stopped after backing a little, and again dropped anchor. Then feeble strokes became audible on the larboard side; the yacht was clearly alongside the barge.

A thought shot through Tom's brain. They were surely lying immediately over the wreck of the "King Solomon." He felt he could no longer remain idle; in some way or another he must be doing. He opened the door and went into the corridor; the road was clear. Without any attempt to conceal his movements he walked straight into the saloon, where the lamps were already lighted, and there, by the table, with her back to the door, stood Elaine. Tom stopped short, but she had already heard him and now turned round. Her large, dark eyes sparkled, and a smile hovered round her trembling lips. She was grave yet excited.

"You?" she cried. "_You?_"

"Yes," he replied, taking her hands, "and you can't turn me out now," he added, half in jest. "We are still fellow-travelers, as you see, but it seems ages since I last talked to you."

Without withdrawing her soft hands from his she continued: "How dared you come on board the yacht?"

"You were the magnet, Elaine."

She blushed slightly, and her smile vanished; she looked furtively round.

"You ought not to have come..."

"Does my society bore you so much?"

"No, oh no, I am glad; you have done far too much for me already, I can never..."

"I do so want to be near you and be able to help you," he said, "if only you will tell me what I can do."

"No, you can't help me."

"It is true that I am but a sorry knight."

"I don't mean that, but don't you see, can't you understand, that it is too late? ..."

She pointed towards the table on which lay a number of sea-charts and drawings; the two wooden dolls had been carelessly thrown down among them.

"They have done their worst and we are entirely in their hands." Something in her tone made him lean towards her; her eyes burned with excitement and deep despair.

"Elaine," he asked impulsively, "you know all?"

"I do," she replied. "Oh, the scoundrels ... they deceived me, enticed me with lies ... my poor father ... Oh, Tom, it is too late..."

Almost unconsciously she had called him by his Christian name; tears rose to her eyes and she leant her head against his shoulder.

"What an idyllic scene!" said an ironical voice at the door. "I am afraid we are disturbing them, Dixon."

It was Doctor Corman and Dixon; on the threshold they stood still, an expression of scornful triumph on their faces.

"So we enticed you with lying words, Elaine?" said Corman mockingly. "What do you intend to do then, eh?"

"Shut up," said Tom, clenching his fists.

Corman pretended to be greatly surprised.

"So you have been pleased to leave your cabin, Mr. Murner? Oh, well, it is of no consequence."

Elaine had pulled herself together; the sight of the two men seemed to have put new vigor into her.

"Oh, yes, I know all about you, who choose a murderer for your friend and are worse than a thief yourself," she cried, in a loud, clear voice. "I overheard your conversation last night and am glad to be able to tell you the truth at last. Worse, yes, worse than a thief; compared with _you_ a thief is an honest man, you who rob widows and orphans, plunder the dead and commit murder for the sake of gold. I see everything clearly now; I hope the truth will scorch your soul when you think of what you have done--you liar, you devil."

Corman's face twitched, and Dixon turned very white. After Elaine's accusing words there was a dead silence, till with a forced laugh Dixon said, rather hoarsely:

"Well, Miss Robertson, maybe you are right, only you have told us the truth just two months too late, and you can't stop us now..."

He looked around, but not at her. After some hesitation he passed in front of her and gathered up the papers from the table, looking at them with a covert smile.

"You see, my dear young lady, there are things in our miserable lives that you can't understand," he said.

Then he left the saloon in silence, and Corman went with him.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*TEN FATHOMS FROM THE GOAL*

The wooden dolls still lay on the table, and as if in a dream, Tom noticed for the first time four other wooden figures on a shelf in the wall. A small marble clock on the same shelf gave forth six shrill, harsh strokes.

Elaine had sunk down on a seat on the larboard of the yacht, trembling nervously after her recent outbreak. Tom took a chair by her side; he wanted to say something to comfort her, but could not think of anything.

"Don't say anything," she whispered with a nervous little smile which ended in a shiver. "I am not going to be hysterical...."

Their attention was diverted by a noise and a light outside the window; they looked out, and saw that the barge had been towed alongside the yacht. Darkness lay over the sea, which had become much less turbulent. The searchlight turned obliquely on the long, low deck of the barge and its milk-white rays shone upon a curious spectacle. Preparations for hauling up 'King Solomon's' golden cargo were in full swing. A grotesque and clumsy gray figure, its feet weighted with lead, was walking along the planks; it was the diver. An assistant held the copper helmet in readiness, the breathing-tube was coiled round his body and a third man was looking after the air-pump. On the deck stood Dixon, Corman, and Toroni--the two former smoking in gloomy silence; the young girl's words must surely have burnt themselves into their consciences and embittered their hour of triumph.