Lieutenant May turned toward Professor Maxon with a questioning look.
“It is he,” said the scientist.
“But the chest?” inquired the officer.
“Mlaxon’s tleasure,” spoke up Sing Lee. “Hornee him tly steal it for long time.”
“Treasure!” ejaculated the professor. “Bududreen gave up his life for this. Rajah Muda Saffir fought and intrigued and murdered for possession of it! Poor, misguided von Horn has died for it, and left his head to wither beneath the rafters of a Dyak long-house! It is incredible.”
“But, Professor Maxon,” said Lieutenant May, “men will suffer all these things and more for gold.”
“Gold!” cried the professor. “Why, man, that is a box of books on biology and eugenics.”
“My God!” exclaimed May, “and von Horn was accredited to be one of the shrewdest swindlers and adventurers in America! But come, we may as well return to the cutter—my men will carry the chest.”
“No!” exclaimed Professor Maxon with a vehemence the other could not understand. “Let them bury it again where it lies. It and what it contains have been the cause of sufficient misery and suffering and crime. Let it lie where it is in the heart of savage Borneo, and pray to God that no man ever finds it, and that I shall forget forever that which is in it.”
On the morning of the third day following the death of von Horn the New Mexico steamed away from the coast of Borneo. Upon her deck, looking back toward the verdure clad hills, stood Virginia and Bulan.