“First, Nara must have snooped a lot more than he let on,” argued Whitman, “in order to learn about that boathouse down in Manaus. Am I right?”
“You may be right,” conceded Mr. Brewster. “Go on.”
“And by checking on me,” continued Whitman, “he found out about you. He learned that you were staying at the Hotel Jacares. So he sent one of his Indians to steal your map—”
“Wait, Hal,” interposed Mr. Brewster with a smile. “How could he have known that I even had the map?”
“He knew Lew Kirby made a deal with somebody. You were the logical man, or you wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble and expense of sending me up to Santa Isabel to organize a safari.”
“But if Nara knew I had the map, why would he want to steal it? Lew Kirby was his partner. Remember?”
“I remember.” Mr. Whitman smiled grimly. “What’s more, so does Joe Nara, and that’s probably the one thing he’d like most to forget.”
“So he wouldn’t be bound by any deal that Kirby made?”
“Exactly. Without the map, you haven’t any claim. If Kirby signed over his share of the mine to you, you would need the map to prove it.”
“I still have part of it, Hal.”