“When he became conscious he raved and cursed frightfully, swearing he had been betrayed and in his mad desire for vengeance—knowing he had but a few moments to live—told us as best he could with his scorched and blackened lips and tongue what we longed to know. It was unbelievable, incredible, more marvelous than Jules Verne’s stories, but true, we know, from the way it dovetails in with other facts in our possession.
“Among other things, we learned that many mysteriously missing ships—the many passenger and merchant vessels which never reached port—were deliberately sunk, torpedoed without warning and all survivors put to death in cold blood merely to secure the gold and other valuables on board. All this treasure, all the loot from robberies and crimes committed in the United States and abroad, all the receipts from smuggling and the sales of drugs and liquors were to swell the fund this master plotter was accumulating to accomplish his final purpose.
“This he told us towards the last—when each breath was a mighty effort, when each word was wrung from him with torture—and he even tried to tell us where it was hidden, where this vast treasure
is concealed, cachéd, and where we might find the headquarters of this monster in human form. He was telling us and was striving, straining to give us the location. He had mentioned the locality in a general way, was giving us the latitude and longitude and had gasped out three figures when he died—the words unfinished, the secret sealed within his lips and—most important of all, with the name of that ruthless, relentless master-fiend unspoken.”
The boys’ eyes had grown round with wonder as Mr. Pauling was speaking. Mrs. Pauling leaned forward, her face flushed, her lips parted. Rawlins had remained as silent, as immovable as if carved in stone, and even Mr. Henderson and Murphy had been so engrossed, so interested, although they knew the story as well as Mr. Pauling, that they had allowed their cigars to go out.
“Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Tom, when his father ceased speaking. “Gosh! We did butt into something worth while!”
“Oh, Gee!” ejaculated Frank in disappointed tones. “Then you don’t know where that treasure is after all!”
“No,” replied Mr. Pauling, “not within several hundred miles. But the treasure is not the important thing, it’s the man himself we want.”
Rawlins rose, his eyes shone with unwonted brilliancy, his face was flushed.
“I’ll say that’s some day’s work!” he cried. “But I’ll bet we can get that loot—and that whole bunch of crooks, too. I’ve a scheme, Mr. Pauling, but I want a little time to think it over and get my brain straightened out. There’s been too much crowded into it during the last ten hours.”