“The fellow is undoubtedly open to suspicion, after what you caught him at the other day.” Billy admitted. “Equally of course, we haven’t a shred of evidence against him.”
“That doesn’t matter a bit, as long as we have the moral certainty,” Saxe argued. “But the real gist of the problem is: What on earth is the fellow up to, anyhow?”
“It’s just pure cussedness,” Roy asserted, his face hardening. “One look at him is enough to warn anyone that he’s spoiling for mischief. He’s a rotter, that’s all.”
Billy Walker shook his head, authoritatively.
“You’re wrong, as usual,” he announced, with unpleasant frankness. “As a matter of fact, our friend, the enemy, has a motive other than sheer deviltry.”
The others regarded the speaker in surprise, whereat Billy Walker nodded his head vigorously a number of times, and looked very wise indeed.
“Yes,” he continued, with much complacency. “After you had told me the incident of his listening to your talk together, I grappled with the problem of the engineer’s not minding his own business, and I presently came on the obvious solution of the puzzle.” He paused, expectantly.
“Well, what was it?” Roy demanded, impatiently. He was still smarting a little from Billy’s sweeping statement as to his own habit of inaccuracy. Saxe, too, showed a keen curiosity in his face.
“The simple truth of the matter is this,” the oracle resumed, when he felt that he had sufficiently whetted their interest by delay. “This man, Masters, has a mind to lay hold on Abernethey’s treasure himself.” He stared triumphantly at first one and then the other of his hearers.
The effect on them was enough to satisfy the purveyor of information. Roy fairly gaped in amazement, while Saxe manifested first astonishment, then incredulity, which he voiced baldly: