“All food for worms; all lying in the howling wilderness, where they’ll stop till kingdom come. What’s the use of worrying? Hand over that bag of gold, Garstang, an’ let’s have a look. I’ve got an awful weakness for nuggets.”
A blanket was spread on the floor of the cavern, and upon this were heaped bank-notes and sovereigns and silver that glittered in the fire-light.
The four men gathered round, and the leader of the gang divided the money into four lots.
“Here’s some of the gold.” The shrill-voiced young man handed a small but heavy bag to Dolphin. “There’s stacks more.”
“One thing at a time, William,” said the leader. “First, we’ll divide the money, then the gold, which won’t be so easy, as we’ve got no scales. Here, take your cash, and count it. I make it £157 7s. apiece.” From a heap of bundles which lay a few yards off he drew forward a tent-fly, and then he carried into the light of the fire a number of small but heavy bags, one by one, and placed them on the canvas.
“My lot’s only £147 7s.,” said a deep and husky voice.
“You must ha’ made a mistake, Garstang,” said Dolphin. “Count it again.”
While the hulking, wry-faced robber bent to the task, the leader began to empty the contents of the bags upon the tent-fly.
Peering through the tracery of the Organ Gallery, Tresco looked down upon the scene with wonder and something akin to envy. There, on the white piece of folded canvas, he could see dull yellow heaps, which, even in the uncertain light of the fire, he recognised as gold.
At first, half-stunned by the presence of the strangers, he was at a loss to determine their character, but from their conversation and the display of such ill-gotten riches, he quickly grasped the fact that they were greater criminals than himself. He saw their firearms lying about; he heard their disjointed talk, interlarded with hilarious oaths; he saw them stooping over the heaps of gold, and to his astonished senses it was plain that a robbery on a gigantic scale had been committed.