Dr. Weber smiled at the group. “Perhaps I should have resisted, but—I knew Perez Soto meant what he said. I went along, like a quiet mouse.”
An idea occurred to Biff. He dashed below. He was back in a moment. He held out his hand to Dr. Weber.
“I just remembered this, Doctor.”
It was the doctor’s tobacco pouch and pipe.
“Bless you, my boy. Missing my pipe was the worst torture I endured during my entire captivity.”
A shout came from the side of the yawl.
“You people up there still interested in a metal box?” It was the diver. “Think this could be it?”
The Hawaiian diver held an oblong object above his head. Biff leaned over the side and took it from his hands. It was encrusted with barnacles, bits of shell, and slimy green seaweed.
It was a metal box. Biff handed it to his father.
“Get a screwdriver, Biff. We’ll have to pry the lid open.”