“Benjie, are you really going to be a professional detective?” David inquired. “Seems to me I heard someone say that you were thinking of it.”
“One mistake I made at first,” Ben remarked solemnly, “was in thinking that the men who put that chest in the rocks and those that Tom saw leaving the island in the sailboat were the same people. I thought there was only one set of men prowling around here, when there were really two.”
Tuckerman smiled. “I don’t wonder you got them mixed. Well, I’m glad Joseph Hastings’ guests got their jewels back from those thieves.”
“You see,” Ben continued, following his own line of thought, “the thieves came out here on the night when Tom saw them in a sailboat, and not in the fishing-smack. And I think it must have been that same sailboat we saw close to the island the night when we returned from Camp Amoussock in the Argo.” He pried loose a sliver of rock and threw it into the water. “Naturally, I didn’t connect that sailboat with the fishing-smack.”
“You’re forgiven,” said Tom. “Don’t let that weigh on your conscience.”
“I’m not sure,” suggested David, “but that we ought to call Benjie the Professor and call Mr. Tuckerman, John. Benjie’s getting to be a real professor. Just listen to the way he talks.”
“Ever since he found the treasure——” began Tom.
“Oh, let up on a fellow, can’t you?” Ben interrupted. “I haven’t mentioned the treasure to-day.”
David gave a chuckle. “You haven’t been out of bed an hour yet. And that puts me in mind of something important. Breakfast is waiting on the beach.”
Four splashes of water as the campers dove from the rock. Tuckerman could manage a very passable dive now. A swim across to the beach, a rub-down, a quick donning of clothes, and then preparations for breakfast. “I’ve never known coffee to taste so good as it does on Cotterell’s Island,” said Tuckerman, draining his cup.