"Why, of course I do! Aren't you alive and—almost well?"
Now, as an argument, there was no particular force in this suggestion; nevertheless, both men felt reassured. Esteban heaved a grateful sigh. After a moment he said,
"There is something I want to tell you both."
"Wait until to-morrow," Norine advised.
But he persisted: "No! I must tell it now. First, however, did either of you discover an old coin in any of my pockets—an old Spanish doubloon?"
"That doubloon again!" Norine lifted her hands protestingly, and cast a meaning look at O'Reilly. "You talked about nothing else for a whole week. Let me feel your pulse."
Esteban surrendered his hand with suspicious readiness.
"You were flat broke when we got you," O'Reilly declared.
"Probably. I seem to remember that somebody stole it."
"Doubloons! Pieces of eight! Golden guineas!" exclaimed Norine. "Why those are pirate coins! They remind me of Treasure Island; of Long John Silver and his wooden leg; of Ben Gunn and all the rest." With a voice made hoarse, doubtless to imitate the old nut-brown seaman with the saber-scar and the tarry pig-tail, who sat sipping his rum and water in the Admiral Benbow Inn, she began to chant: