Margaret was prepared for his coming, and between them the treasure was safely deposited in the bank, at which Elliott felt an incubus lifted from his mind. The next step was to secure an experienced marine lawyer to forward their salvage claims.
This gentleman, after passing through a stage of stupefaction at their unexampled scrupulosity, advised that a claim of forty per cent. of the value be made, in consideration of the circumstances of the case. They made it, and then there was long to wait. Red tape, Treasury tape, Admiralty tape, civil tape was unrolled to a disheartening length, and the new Transvaal Crown Colony even put in its claim, as the original owner of the bullion. In the midst of the delay Elliott received a message from Henninger:
“We have disposed of all our goods,” he wrote. “Go ahead and make the best terms you can. Hawke has gone to California to start his bee farm, but he thinks he will look into a few mining deals in Nevada before he gets there. Bennett is playing the races on a system. I am saving my money at present, but I see a chance to double my money in Venezuela. The treasure trail is a long trail, and we’re not at the end of the rainbow yet.”
And in England Elliott and Margaret were finding the latter stages of the treasure trail long indeed. The salvage case took a great deal of deciding; the courts appeared to be convinced that some occult dishonesty must be concealed beneath the offer to restore any part of the lost treasure, and haggled over the percentage in a manner, it appeared to Elliott, highly unworthy of the traditions of a mighty nation. Ultimately, however, a compromise was arrived at. The government would pay thirty-three per cent.; and Elliott surrendered the bullion and received back two hundred and twelve thousand dollars, which he divided equally with Margaret. Six days later they were at sea, bound out of Southampton for New York.
Surely, Elliott thought, this was the last of the long trail, as he listened to the regular “swish—crash!” on her bows that had become so odiously familiar; and he determined that all should be settled before he sighted American land.
“If I ever get ashore again,” he remarked to Margaret, “I’m going to the quietest, sleepiest country town I can find, and never set eyes on a steamer or a railway train again as long as I live.”
They were looking over the stern, where night had fallen on the heaving swell. It had rained hard, but was clearing; an obscured moon faintly lit the sea.
“And do some sort of good work,” said Margaret. “You’ve got ability, money, and every chance of a happy life.”
“It’s in your hands,” Elliott declared, feeling his opportunity.
“It’s not!” she cried, vehemently. “It’s in your own. You’re too strong to depend on any one else for your life’s success. I don’t like to hear that!”