“Then how do you account for our finding it on the door-knob, and for its being broken as it is now?”
“Don't you see? The fellow returned, of course.”
“Returned? When?”
“After we saw him over the side; he never went ashore. He sneaked back, and then made off in a tremendous hurry. The position, not to say the condition, in which we found the rosary proves that. Jove! what a pair of fools we've been. That rascally shark-charmer has diddled us out of the pearls.”
Don stared at his friend open-mouthed, yet unable to utter a single word either of assent or doubt, so great was the consternation produced in his mind by Jack's daring theory as to the disappearance of the pearls, and the consequences which must follow if it held good.
“You may take it to be a dead certainty,” resumed Jack, following up his idea, “that when Salambo actually left the ship, the pearls went with him. We made the rascal walk the plank this morning, and he's bound to resent that, of course. In fact, the way in which he shook his fist at us when he went off in the boat shows that he did resent it. Very well, then, there's a readymade motive for you—revenge.”
“That's all right,” said Don, finding his tongue at last, “I'm not boggling over the motive: the value of the pearls is enough motive for any nigger. What puzzles me is this: How did he know we had them in our possession at all?”
“Why, that's as plain as the nose on your face,” replied Jack; “the fellow was on shore at the same time we were, was he not?”
“He was.”
“Well, then, suppose he saw us buy the shells, watched us open them, and, in short, discovered that we had met with a stroke of luck. Then he follows us back here—you saw him yourself, didn't you?”