“You remember Lord Wilson? The Englishman who came here with a valet two years ago? Well, one of the men in need of surgical aid is Edward, the valet. He came in here a few days ago with another Englishman, in a queer combination of launch and motor boat.”
“Ahead of the Señorita?” asked Frank.
“Just behind her. This man Lewiso, who formerly worked for your father, was in charge of the Señorita, and the two men mixed at once. You see,” he added with a smile, “they were both after the gold we have so often talked about, and each believed that the other knew the exact location of it. They both prowled about Cloud island, each watching the other, until they came to blows.”
“That was to have been expected,” Frank said.
“The crew of the Señorita deserted when shooting began, and Lewiso and Edward had it out together, one day, on the pier, where the Señorita lay. Neither was much injured, but that night the steamer was blown out of water with dynamite stolen from my warehouse. I pushed the wreck of the vessel down stream not long ago.”
“We just passed it.”
“The companion of the Englishman, Edward, was killed that night, but Lewiso escaped. Last night they came together—Edward and Lewiso—on Cloud island, while searching for the gold, and this morning my men brought them to my place wounded unto death. They are there now, and the doctor’s house is in sight, and we’ll interrupt the conversation long enough to get him on board,” John added, as the motor boat headed in at a little cove on the west shore.
The doctor was soon on board—a fussy little fellow with gray hair and a beard like a goat—and the Rambler shot down stream again.
“Of course the men never found what they were looking for?” asked Frank, as the boat sped on its way.
“Certainly not, and for a very good reason!”