“And on this night,” his voice rolled deep, and solemn, “as they looked up they saw a single man toiling there, as they had toiled during the day. This man was larger than any one of us, larger than any of them. And he was greater than all of them,” Pompee continued. “The greatest, most powerful ruler Haiti has ever known. He was their emperor. And yet he toiled there at common labor the long night through. Why?”
As he paused for an answer he looked away at the distant wall to fancy again that he saw a figure moving there, to imagine that he caught the rhythmic motion of a mason working in brick, mortar and stone.
“Of course,” he went on as no one spoke, “he may have been angry and impatient at the slow workmen. And yet—”
“He hid something there,” said Dorn.
“And that?” asked Johnny.
“Was the ‘Rope of Gold’,” said Dorn. “It required two men to carry it. But the emperor was a powerful man, the most powerful ever known in Haiti.” The French boy’s tone became eager, insistent. “He could have wrapped it about him, inside his great purple coat.”
“Yes,” said Pompee, giving approval. “And that is what he did. But where is the ‘Rope of Gold’ now?”
To this question none could give answer, though each wished that he could do so.
Once more the silence of shadows and night fell upon them.
For some time Curlie spread his slim legs before the fire. Then, apparently remembering some forgotten mission, he sprang to his feet.