The squire wrote his translation of the letter, as he had thus far evolved it, as follows:
“Chambers says the key to the starboard locker must be still aboard yacht.”
“Now let me see,” reflected Squire Brackett, “that leaves only three more words—‘sound,’ ‘third,’ and ‘under.’ Well, I don’t know what they have to do with it. They probably referred to something else in the letter. But what on earth can that be in the starboard locker,—that’s what I’d like to know.”
Deeply agitated, he arose from his chair and strode up and down the room. He rubbed his hands together in a self-satisfied way.
“Looks like I’d get even with some of ’em yet,” he exclaimed, softly. “There’s something aboard that yacht that’s valuable—and what’s more, that man Carleton came all the way down here on purpose to get it. I see it—I see it. They had a locker where they hid valuables, and there’s something there yet worth getting. Oh, I wish I had the rest of that letter!”
The squire, forming a sudden resolve, put the precious paper in a drawer, locked it therein, and hurried down to the tent on the point. By good luck, he met Henry Burns coming away from it.
“How d’ye do, my boy?” he said, trying to smile agreeably and to conceal his excitement, at the same time.
“How do you do, Squire Brackett?” replied Henry Burns, reading easily something of more than ordinary significance in the squire’s shrewd face. “Nice day, sir.”
“Yes—yes, so it is,” returned the squire. “See here, I’d like to hire that yacht of yours for a few days—possibly a week. I won’t sail her, of course. I’m no skipper. I’ll get John Hart to run her for me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, squire,” said Henry Burns, “but we can’t let the Viking. The season is most over, you see, and we want to have some fun with her the rest of the time. We’ve begun cleaning her out and washing her insides, ready for painting. Perhaps the crew will let you have the Surprise, though. I guess Harvey will be willing.”