"Ah! That brings me to the third point," said Frisco unmoved, "I worked for that money. I went through hot and cold and danger to get it. Half of it should have been mine. But Carr had the whip hand of me, so I'm out of it. Now gentlemen, I know where that câche is. If you'll give me a thousand to fit out an expedition we'll cry quits. I and Robin are going to get more treasure. Carr didn't take away the lot."
"But remember that the Indians are warned," said Herrick, "they have very likely removed the rest of the jewels."
"That's what I've got to find out," said Frisco, "and Robin is coming along with me to be made a man of. Well, these three points, Mr. Marsh, are clear enough. I ought to have half the money, but as you have the upper hand, I ask a thousand pounds--as my right."
"I certainly think you are entitled to that much," said Stephen, "what do you say, Herrick?"
"I'm with you, Steve. Give him the money."
Frisco chuckled while Stephen wrote out a cheque for the amount. When the ex-sailor placed it in his pocket he stood up to go. "Well, gentlemen," he said, with some sort of emotion, "I thank you for this treatment. You are both white men. I have behaved badly, but this makes all square. I can tell you one thing, Mr. Marsh, that you will have no further trouble about the money. Even if the Indians knew, they would do nothing to you, now that Carr has gone. As to the plan, I daresay his body by this time is--well no matter. I go out of your life gentlemen, so does Robin--to be made a man of. There remains Santiago. He won't trouble you. I'm going to shoot him when I drop across him in Mexico."
"You can do what you like there, Frisco. I daresay another crime won't matter much to you."
"It wouldn't be a crime but an act of justice. He played me a dirty trick, Dr. Herrick. However, I'm off. You won't shake hands so I don't offer. So long gentlemen both," said Frisco walking towards the door, "and may you live long and be happy. As to that devil Carr--" Frisco spat and then departed. They never saw him again.
A year later information came through a newspaper, stating the fate of an expedition that had gone into the interior of Peru. The Indians of the Cordilleras had attacked the camp and the three white men who led the expedition were killed. Their names were Joyce, alias Frisco, his son Robin, and a Mexican called Santiago.
"Poor Robin," said Herrick when he read this to his wife, "he was a mean little scoundrel, but I'm sorry that he came to such an end. As to Santiago, Frisco must have made it up with him and taken him to look after the treasure. Well, the whole three are dead. Let us forget them."