"'Spanish knives and brass-hilted cutlasses,'" repeated my uncle. "That's strange."
"It certainly points to a wreck of some Spanish war-vessel in bygone days."
"What do you intend to do in the matter?"
"Why, fit out an expedition," replied my father decisively. "I've already formed a rough plan of action, but it is too late to discuss it to-night. It's time we were all turned in and fast asleep."
So saying, my father swept the papers and charts off the table, locked the former in a safe, and placed the metal box with the now solved cipher in his pocket, then motioned us to retire, and extinguished the lamp.
But for me, sleep was an impossibility. The exciting events of the past few days, culminating in my fortunate discovery, kept me awake, and in almost a fever of suppressed mental activity I was continually turning from side to side in a fruitless endeavour to sleep.
Outside the wind was howling across the harbour, making the trees shiver and creak in a weird and disturbing manner. Presently the clock struck two, and at almost the same time a current of air rushed into my room, causing the half-open door to swing back against the wall.
"Surely they cannot have forgotten to shut the hall door," I thought, and, jumping out of bed, I walked silently towards the staircase. The other inmates had been more fortunate than I; my father was sleeping soundly, while his brother was snoring heavily, the place seemingly trembling under the vibrations of his sonorous efforts, and even as I listened I heard a faint click as if the dining-room door was being opened.
Instantly I crept into uncle's room, gently closed the door, and shook him by the shoulder.
"Wake up!" I whispered. "There's some one broken into the house."