“But—ah—what is the—aw—object of this excavation?”
“Do be quiet!” Mundey begged.
“You—aw—you appear to me to be—ah—bent on uprooting the garden! What are you—aw——”
In despair Mundey imitated my procedure and fainted too! The grinning orderlies helped him up to my room. The Sage continued to look on, in mute astonishment. Luckily the Pimple was too excited to have eyes for anything but the treasure.
A few minutes later Stace, who shared the Sage’s room, came up to me.
“For any sake, Bones, go out and stop the Cook digging.”
“Has he dug much?” I asked.
“Much?” said Stace. “He has torn up the garden by the roots! If you don’t stop him he’ll have the house down.”
“Right-o, Staggers. I’ll stop him!”
Stace went off, leaving me to think out the next move. A few minutes later, I went downstairs, supporting myself by the banisters, with every appearance of weakness. Moïse and the Cook, bathed in perspiration and grime from their exertions, met me at the foot. I leant feebly against the wall beside them.