Before the tempest broke the weather had been hot, oppressive, in fact. Now the air had become almost chilly in contrast. Ralph, in his wet clothes, shuddered. The night breeze that crept along in the wake of the storm made him feel that a warm fire would be welcome.
“No use standing still here,” he mused; “there’s nothing to be done till morning, at any rate. If this is the mainland, there should be some farmer’s house in sight. In the event that we have struck an island, it seems almost equally positive that some one is living upon it.”
He sat down in the lee of a rock, sheltered from the driving rain and the wind, and considered his position. On second thoughts, it did not seem so serious. He had checkmated a gang of ruffians, and as he thought of this he gave his chest a thump.
The wallet with the fortune within its transparent inside cover was still there. He controlled the situation. The next morning he resolved that, no matter what happened, he would deliver the entire collection to the authorities.
“Thank goodness, Hansen did not guess what I had taken,” he said to himself. “In fact, I doubt if either Malvin or Hawke would have made enough of a confidant of him to let him know that they had such a sum in precious stones to sneak across the border. So far as I can see, this Hansen was a sort of weak-kneed go-between. He was entirely in their power. Their tool, in fact.”
Musing in this way, Ralph arose to his feet. The rain still beat down, but it was not as violent as before.
Far off, intermittent flashes could be seen on the horizon. The storm had plainly passed.
Ralph patted the pocket wherein reposed the gems.
“Checkmated,” he chuckled, “checkmated, by all that’s wonderful! Now for some sleep and then—to-morrow.”