“Only a kindergarten form of ratiocination required,” the sage went on, with an air of extreme boredom. “Cause—family devotion. Aged and faithful servitor didn’t mean to let you deprive daughter of his mistress of her share of the money—meant to beat you to it, like Masters, but from a different motive, merely to keep it away from you until the time limit should expire. Then, he observed symptoms between you and the said daughter that convinced him of error in his plans—made him realize that keeping the money away from you would end in depriving her of half the gold while giving her a half. Being emotional and devoted, he confessed to the girl. The girl felt it her duty to confess to you. It is probable that Chris was the one to discover the secret vault in the wall there, whom Roy, without due reasoning, took to be Masters. Was it Chris?”
“Yes,” Saxe admitted. He was greatly disconcerted by his failure to add anything to the seer’s knowledge.
“Bully for Chris!” David exclaimed. “Crafty old critter, too, to dig into that safe. Huh! I’ve heard about that sort of devotion on the part of old family servants, but it’s the first instance I’ve struck in my own experience. Don’t have ’em in Wyoming.”
“Awful nuisance,” Billy Walker grumbled, “aged family retainers—doddering remnants, always butting in!” He gaped shamelessly, with a great noise.
Saxe, outraged by the sage’s flippant reference to sacred things of his heart, felt himself indisposed for the further companionship of his friends just then. It was this mood, rather than any anxiety concerning the treasure, that led him to devise an excuse for separation.
“Let’s get to bed,” he said, “and then make an early start for the island in the morning.”
Billy Walker, whose lids were weighted by the day’s activities, grinned contentedly at the first phrase, and scowled portentously at the second.
“That’s the idea,” David agreed. “We’ll be off as soon as it gets to be light. I’ll tell Jake to call us, and Mrs. Dustin to have our breakfast ready.” He bustled out of the room, eager for the mission.
Billy Walker groaned.
“Dave is too precipitate,” he growled; “too precipitate by far.” He rose and started for his room. “If we’re to arise at some ghastly hour,” he explained to Saxe, “I musn’t lose an instant in getting to bed. Brain-workers require ten hours of sleep. It’s different with you others.” His feelings somewhat soothed by this gibe, he departed.