“I’ll bet they did,” Hi said.
“Well, I know they didn’t,” the man said. “This place was lost in the jungle centuries before the Spaniards came. I can prove it: look here.”
He led Hi to the temple door, in front of which a great heart tree had once grown. This tree had been sawn through and removed: the near-by ground was all burnt and scattered with its wreck.
“There’s the proof,” the man said, “that tree was blocking the main door long before the Spaniards landed. Count the rings in the stump.”
“That’s true,” Hi said, glancing at the countless rings. “But don’t these tropical trees put on more than one ring in a year?”
“No, they don’t,” the man said. “Whereabouts inside do you suppose the treasure is?”
“I suppose under the altar, wherever that would be. But the people would have taken it with them when they went from here.”
“They didn’t go from here.”
Hi waited: he knew that the man wanted his help in some way in this treasure-hunt. He would not ask any question which might bring in or suggest Wigmore. He was certain that Wigmore had discovered this place and had been murdered because of it. Any knowledge which the man had was Wigmore’s.
“It will be hard work,” Hi said, “to get inside this place.”