“Well, where is it?” said he at last.
“On the yacht,” said Hank. “I rowed over and stowed it away, just before you came.”
“You rowed over and stowed it away. What did you do that for?”
“Safety.”
“Safety—did you expect I was going to steal it?”
“Lord! B. C.,” said Hank, “what’s getting at you?”
“Nothing,” said Candon, suddenly blazing out: “Well, as you have taken the stuff on board, you can take it back to ’Frisco without me. The expedition’s ended. You start off back to-morrow, I stay here. I’ve fulfilled my part of the contract. I’ve brought Vanderdecken on board your ship and I’ve brought you to the stuff and you’ve got it. In the contract I was to receive so much money down. I don’t want it. I can hoof it down to Mazatlan and get work among the Mexicans. You can leave me one of the automatics and some cartridges, that’s all I want.”
George sat aghast; so did Hank.
It was as if B. C. had turned inside out before their eyes.
“Look here,” said George at last, “that’s nonsense. We are all good friends. Vanderdecken has nothing to do with us or that boodle. Good Lord! What’s come to you?”