De Costa rocked his head between his knees.
"It's true--true--true!" he whined. "I know it. I shall die. I don't want this money. I want to live. I--I fear to die." His voice trembled. He was pitiful to see.
"You shall not die," said Crouch; "I'll make it my business to see that you live. I can't cure you, but I can keep you alive till we reach the coast. There, one week on the sea will restore your health."
"That's what I want," said de Costa, "the sea air. Oh, for a breath of the sea!"
"I'll take you down with us," Crouch ran on. "I'll doctor you on the way. Max Harden is a young man of science. He has studied these things, and with his knowledge and my experience we'll pull you through. In three months from now, I promise you, you shall set eyes upon the ocean."
"How glorious!" the poor man cried. He looked into Crouch's face, and there were large tears in his eyes.
"Stay," said Crouch; "I've not come here for philanthropic purposes. If I do this for you, you must do something for me. Otherwise you can stay here--and die."
"What is it you want?"
Crouch bent forward and whispered in the man's ear, speaking distinctly and with great deliberation.
"I want to know what's inside the padlocked chest that Cæsar keeps in his hut. Come, out with the truth!"