"Jiminy Christmas!" said I.
"Exactly!" said Jack.
Only Pat said nothing. Then she clasped her hands on an inspiration. "Do you know what I think?" she exclaimed. "Yes—it must be that! There is nothing else which can explain. Mr. Storm is ver-ry sorry for us, Larry and me, because once more we are in ruin. Not even Marcel can do us good now! But if it were true about the tr-reasure of the Captain Kidd, it would be ours. It would save me from—I mean, it would save us from all the trouble we are in. Don't you see, Molly and Jack, that is it? He went into the cave to search. If he would find the tr-reasure, he would tell us we were rich."
While she was talking, explaining her theory, my mind worked fast. What she said put an idea into my mind. It was different from her idea, because I had a clue—when I came to think of it—that she didn't possess. As it turned out, Jack's brain was working in the same direction as mine, at the same moment. I guessed this, before he told me, from what he said in answer to Pat.
"Perhaps you're right," he told her. "I'm afraid Storm must have been disappointed, though, if he was looking for Captain Kidd's treasure to give you. He came out with empty hands. Maybe, though, now you've got the inspiration you'll be more lucky, you and your father. I agree with Caspian on this subject: you'd better not invite too many people to your treasure-hunting bee. In fact, I think it had better confine itself to members of the family."
"No use," sighed Pat. "There's not a hole nor a corner of that cave I didn't search like a needle for a haystack—I mean the othaire way round—when I was petite."
"Do you give me leave to explore?" asked Jack.
"Yes, indeed," said Pat. Yet I thought she hesitated before she spoke. "When will you like to go?"
"I must dress for the job, I suppose," said Jack. "Shall we say to-morrow at ten o'clock in the morning, with you and Molly and nobody else in a stage box to watch the performance?"
Pat agreed, laughing, yet there was something peculiar—an arriere pensée—in her laugh. She had suddenly become absent-minded—or else she was sleepy; and I reminded Jack that it was growing late. We took the girl back to the house, into which she disappeared with a dreamy, "la Somnambula" air; and for once I was glad to see the last of the dear child. I was dying to talk to Jack. But I'm not going to inflict our discussion upon you. Instead, I'll tell you what happened in the morning (that's to-day!). We got up early and Jack sported a shocking old suit of knickerbockers, just right for an up-to-date cave man. You see, he really meant to keep his engagement. If he found anything, as he thought quite probable, it would bear out his theory and save unsuspecting Peter the trouble of working the Moore family up to an interest in the cave. We were just attacking our coffee and rolls, however, at eight-thirty, when Pat appeared, hovering at the end of the vine covered pergola which we use for a breakfast-room.