"Maurice," he said, "do you think McTuft has any idea where we are?"
Receiving no answer, he bent down to look at his friend and repeat his question.
Maurice Wallion was sound asleep.
CHAPTER XIX
WHERE THOMAS FALLS INTO THE
HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES
Next morning there was a strong wind, and the yacht pitched a good deal; the violent motion woke Tom to find Wallion already awake. A shower of rain came down, but under the tarpaulin, though rather cramped, they were dry. Now that the mystery of the wooden dolls was solved, Wallion resumed his usual placid demeanor. They breakfasted on salmon, bread and sausage and then, in subdued tones, discussed the information gleaned from William Robertson's notes.
"It never occurred to me that 'King Solomon' might be a wrecked vessel," remarked Wallion thoughtfully. "I wish I had known that three days ago; it rather alters the situation. Evidently our adversaries do not contemplate a long delay; they have brought divers, and all is clear at the so-called 'wharf.' Having located the spot only a few hours are required for hauling up the gold. I wonder..."
He laid his finger on his lips and his hand on Tom's arm; footsteps could be heard on deck.
"Thursday morning," said Doctor Corman irascibly, "that is rather late, Dixon."
"Rubbish! Why?" asked the owner of the yacht.