Beneath the canvas was a wrapping of oiled silk, and within that one of heavy linen. As this fell away our eyes were blinded by a dazzling heap of red and white stones linked with bars of gold.
"A necklace of rubies and diamonds," opined Master Burnet. "Spoil of the Indies."
A slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. The writing was in brown ink, faded by dampness, but fully legible—a bold, flowing script. It ran:
From One who shal bee Namelesse, a Gentleman of goode Estate and Name, who is now Under a Cloude but will Yette recover fromme 'ye slings and Arrowes of Outrageous fortune.' Take this so Mistress Ormerod maye not bee Portionlesse. There is More where this came from.
"I'll wager there is," pronounced the governor. "Master Murray hath turned pirate. I would I had that tarry breeks who scurried hence, and we might screw some information from him. But New York town is a favorite haunt of his breed, and he will disappear without trouble."
"What shall I do with it?" I asked in bewilderment.
Ta-wan-ne-ars and Peter joined in the governor's hearty roar of amusement.
"Why, even accept it," quoth Master Burnet. "The villain has tricked you so you can do naught else. 'Tis an extraordinary rogue."
So I pocketed the gems, and we walked out upon the wharf where the sloop River Queene lay with her moorings slack.
"Tumble aboard, my masters," shouted the captain. "There's a fair breeze and the tide is flowing."