He brought out the paper from his safe and the three men crowded around it. Here, after all, was the crux of the whole matter. By this they were to stand or fall. It booted little to know merely that the doubloons were buried somewhere in the West Indies. They might as well be at the North Pole, unless they could locate their hiding place with some degree of precision.
The dark, heavily shaded part in the center of the map was evidently meant to mark the position of the island itself. Quite as surely, the light, undulating lines surrounding it were intended to show the water.
"There seems to be just one inlet," said Captain Hamilton, pointing to an indentation that bit deeply into the dark mass of the island.
"Lucky there's even one," grunted Tyke. "I've known many of those picayune islands where there was no safe anchorage at all."
The island was irregular in shape and seemed to have an elevation in the center. But what most attracted their attention were three small circles some distance in from the shore that seemed to indicate some special spot.
"There's some writing alongside of these," announced Drew, after a sharp scrutiny. "If you'll hand me the reading glass I think I can make it out."
The glass was quickly brought into use, and Drew stared at the writing hard and long.
"'The Witch's Head.' 'The Three Sisters'," he translated.
"Sounds like a suffragette colony," muttered Tyke.
But Drew was too deeply engrossed with his task to notice the play of fancy.