"If I do get off," I said, "I could inform the consul of your being here, and he would get you out himself."
"No, no, that would never do; I've been thinking it over. If the consul gets wind of it, he'll make inquiries; then the matter will get bruited about, and will be certain to come to the ears of the Albino's agents."
"Agents?"
"Why, of course. You don't imagine that little devil hasn't arranged for somebody to watch your movements here, and at the same time to hunt about for me! Bless your heart, now that he knows I'm alive, I'd bet a thousand pounds to a half-penny he finds out I'm in here."
"Good heavens," I cried, "it's a perfect network of plots and counterplots, and I seem fated not to understand it. Now you're alive, and still the possessor of your money, what do they want that locket for? They can never hope to find out where you buried the gold."
"Buried the what?"
"The gold you obtained by your last legacy when you were in San Francisco."
"Sonny, they've been playing you again. What do you mean? I never had any legacy."
Thereupon I set to work and told him the story Juanita had told me. He laughed uproariously, then smacking me on the shoulder said—
"You just help me to get out of here, and you'll see what I'm worth. I promise you'll not find me ungrateful."