“I had a notion that he understood, but he shook his head.
“‘You don’t speak English,’ I went on.
“Again he shook his head. Then I began to have a little reason. My curiosity was satisfied. Manifestly, I had gone the limit. Numbers, at least, were against me, whether they were armed or not. Before anything could be attempted I whirled about, swung my arm to open a path, and, as the crowd behind me fell back, I walked out of the enclosure. A hubbub of voices rose behind me, but not a hand was raised against me. Indifference seemed the best weapon, and I strolled up to the edge of the plateau, passed down the steps and to the boat.”
“Then what?” urged the boy.
“I had got about as much as I expected. But I did not give up wholly. I sailed back home, and at last decided on one more attempt. It was a slim chance, but I took it. I have often regretted it. Your Ba was working for me then—his name then was Zaco. I coached Zaco and two other men named Nickolas and Thomas to go to Timbado and pose as castaways—not as thieves. They were simply to discover, if possible, whether the pearl was still there or had been disposed of.
“Not one of them ever returned. Your story is the first account I ever had of their fate. Nickolas and Thomas are either there to-day as Cajou’s subjects, or they are dead. Zaco, of course, escaped—somehow. The marks he carries with him prove that he saw the pearl and that it was there at that time. I’ve felt that it has been there all these years. Now that we know it—” and he paused.
“What?” exclaimed his listener, every nerve atingle.
“Let’s go and get it—you and I and the aeroplane,” continued Captain Bassett calmly.