The Captain handed over his handkerchief, and Harman, with suspicious dexterity, rolled it into a gag. “That’ll stop your tongue,” said he. “And now for the plunder.”
They found the safe where the unfortunate Sprengel kept his money. There were five thousand dollars there in silver and American gold coin, and a bank book showing a huge balance at a Berlin bank. Also securities for large amounts. They respected these, as they were useless, and took only the coin.
Then they went over the house and grounds adjoining, and the total loot tabulated roughly ran to:
The amount of coin already specified.
Five thousand cigars.
A suit of new pajamas and a safety razor in case.
A case of Florida water, six bottles of eau de Cologne, all the native headdresses adorning the sitting room.
A live parrot in a cage, half a dozen chickens, and half a boatload of vegetables.
It was not much, but it was all that they could lay hands on. Harman wanted to include a native girl who had come out from among the trees with a basket of fruit on her head, not knowing what was going on, but the Captain vetoed him. He only took the fruit.
Then they pushed off, having first ungagged their victim, unbound him, and locked him in the house.