“I was just deciding that treasure-hunting was a poor sort of game,” he said. “This is about the tenth attempt I’ve made at scientific detective-work: I try to put myself in the position of a burglar leaving my house with his loot, desirous of avoiding all roads and tracks, and of finding a safe hiding-place until excited policemen have calmed down sufficiently to make it safe for him to get away. With this profound idea in our minds Sandy and I strike out across country and look for tracks!”
“I say—that’s a jolly game!” cried Judy.
“It is quite a jolly game,” he agreed. “Sandy entirely approves of it. It has given us a great deal of fresh air and exercise, and our health has benefited enormously—you can see for yourself how well Sandy looks!” He pulled the Airedale’s ears. “But so far as finding the jewels goes, it doesn’t seem to lead anywhere. That doesn’t trouble Sandy, but it is hurtful to my pride. It would give me unbounded pleasure to be able to flourish my property before those two superior detectives, remarking airily, ‘I told you so!’ ”
“I think you need help,” Judy told him kindly. “Say we go with you and lend a hand?”
“Say I go with you, and forget all about the wretched old jewels,” he responded. “I think it would do me good to have the cheerful society of you three merry people for a day. I don’t seem to have had a moment free from the worry of them for the last week. By the way, my detectives have a fresh thrill; they went out boating before breakfast, and landed on Shepherd’s Island.”
Jack jumped, and Judy favoured him with a threatening glare.
“What’s up, Jack?” inquired Dr. Firth.
“Trod on a stick,” mumbled Jack, his face the colour of a beetroot. I felt that mine resembled it, and could only hope that Dr. Firth would put it down to sunburn.
But Judy did not turn a hair.
“What did they land for?” she inquired politely. “A picnic?”