"He is coming to," whispered Mont. "Perhaps you had better go outside. He may become violent."
"Never mind if he does," replied the girl; "I think I ought to stay, and I won't care so long as you are here," and then, as Mont gave her a grateful smile, Deb suddenly blushed and turned away her face.
"My gold and silver! It's mine, all mine!" muttered Pooler to himself. "Monterey Gray is dead, and it belongs to me, all, all, all!" He gnashed his teeth. "Oh, why did I go on that accursed yacht--evil is always sure to follow! My gold and silver! All mine!"
A long silence followed, broken only by the irregular breathing of the exhausted man.
"He has passed into a stupor," said Mont. "How long it will last I cannot tell."
Presently Meg returned, carrying a number of bottles and bandages.
"Brought all I could carry," she declared. "Hope there's what you want there."
Deb looked over the list and fixed up a dose which Mont poured down the wounded man's throat.
Meanwhile, Meg picked up the scattered coins and tied them up in the various bags that lay upon the table. How much there was they could form no estimate, but it would certainly run up to thousands of dollars.
Evidently, Max Pooler had not dreamed of being surprised while counting over his hoarded wealth, and the demands of Mosey and Corrigan, who probably had some hold upon the miser, had led to an immediate quarrel.