"At that Moss made a queer noise in his throat, and I thought he was going to have a fit. 'What—what the devil are you talking about?' he gurgled.
"'I wish I had had you with me—then, Matt, for you could have doubtless summed up the woman to him—she was a blank to me—I only divined one had been there. 'Yes, Mr. Mossy,' I said, 'you're a gay deceiver and no mistake! I know all about it!'
"'Do you,' he said, eyeing me excitedly. 'Do you know all about it? I'm not so sure, but in order to avoid running any risks, drop your voice a bit and have a cocktail with me!'
"He poured me out one, and I went on softly, 'Well, boss Moss,' I said, 'we'll leave the female out of the question for the present. Underneath this cellar of yours, is a pit.'
"'I'm damned if there is!' Moss snorted; 'leastways, it's the first I've ever heard of it.'
"'And in this pit,' I said, 'is the skeleton of a Spanish buccaneer called Don Guzman, who landed in this port on August 10, 1699, and after robbing and slicing up a family of the name of Hervada, who lived on the site of what is now the Copthorne Hotel, was hurrying off with all their money and jewels, when he fell into a pit, covered with brambles and briars, and broke his neck.'
"'And you expect me to believe this cock and bull story,' Moss growled. 'Being out of a job so long has made you balmy.'
"'It hasn't made me too balmy not to see through the way you deceive your wife, Moss,' I said. 'I'll bet she would think me sane enough if I were to tell her all I know. But I'll spare you if you will take me into your cellar and help me to do a bit of excavation there. But promise, mind you, that we will go shares in what we find.'
"'Oh, I'll promise right enough,' Moss replied. 'I'll promise anything—if only to keep you from talking such moonshine.'
"Well, in the end I prevailed upon him to accompany me, and we went into the cellar—just as I had depicted it—armed with a pick-axe and crowbar. Moss growling and jeering every step he took, and I, deadly in earnest.