Of a sudden, wonder grew on his face. Doubt, fear, hope, joy, followed. He bent awkwardly, but swiftly, snatched the paper, and immediately stalked off into the cottage and up the stairs to his bedroom, without a word of explanation or apology. Saxe shrugged his shoulders, and smiled whimsically. The others paid no attention whatsoever.
It was a half-hour later when Billy returned to the porch. His manner was wholly changed. He was radiant with a supreme triumph of pride. The others did not look up, as he again seated himself in the easy chair. But the man was so surcharged with exultation that his mood sent its challenges vibrant to their souls. Presently, one turned to stare at him, and then another, and then the third. He met their gaze with eyes that were aglow, and a smile of delight bent the coarse lips. He nodded slowly, as in answer to their mute questioning, and spoke:
“Well, my dilatory friends,” he began genially, “your confidence in me, which has enabled you to retain your calm while yourselves accomplishing nothing, was not misplaced. After a considerable period of unremitting toil over the manuscript left for our guidance by the ingenious deceased—by the way, Saxe, that song of gold, as you call it, is perfectly good music, isn’t it?”
The three were gazing on Billy Walker with wide eyes. Their astonishment was so great that, for the moment, they did not question the leisurely manner of the sage’s introduction. Instead, Saxe answered the seemingly irrelevant interrogation obediently.
“It’s perfectly good music—in the sense you mean—yes.”
“Then,” Billy declared, “I take off my hat to the late Mr. Abernethey. The reason for this burst of enthusiasm on my part lies in the fact that out of a perfectly good piece of music, he has made, also, a perfectly good chart—for our guidance to the treasure. As to the chart, I myself speak as an authority, since I have found it.” Billy regarded his friends with an expression of intense self-satisfaction.
Roy was sitting up in the hammock now, with his jaw thrust forward a little, and his eyes hard in the excitement of the minute. David was goggling, with his mouth open in amazement over the unexpected announcement. Saxe betrayed his emotion by the tenseness of his features, the rigidity of his pose, the sparkle in his keen, gray eyes.
It was evident that the successful investigator was hugely enjoying the sensation he had created. He delighted in the importance of his accomplishment, gloried in the stunning effect of it on his companions. He smiled broadly, chuckled in a rumbling fashion of his own, and finally lighted one of his black cigars with irritating slowness. He rather hoped that someone might exclaim with impatience against this wanton delay, but none did. They endured the suspense in apparent calm, moveless, expectant. So at last, Billy deigned to proceed with the account of his achievement in solving the mystery contrived by the miser.
“I owe the final suggestion by which I won out to Saxe,” he declared frankly, with an appreciative nod in his friend’s direction. “He, however, really deserves no credit, since what he did was merely by chance, without any intention, and would never have amounted to anything, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I happened to see what he had done, and to take advantage of it in an orderly and logical way. Only, I wish it understood that he served as the unconscious instrument of destiny in the matter, and as such unconscious instrument he should be recognized. Probably, I should have arrived at the fact in time without his aid, but to it I owe success on this present occasion.”
“What in the world did I do?” Saxe demanded, in amazement.