"Just a minute, my friend," said Matt.
The sailor flashed a look toward the automobile. The driver had closed the hood, and was waving his arms.
"Nary a minute have I got to spare, shipmate," the sailor answered. "The skipper of that craft has plugged the hole in her bow, and we're ready to trip anchor and bear away."
"Wait!" and a sternness crept into Matt's voice. "We must have a talk with you. Perhaps you'll save yourself trouble if you give us a few minutes of your time."
At the word "trouble," the sailor squared around.
"Now, shiver me," he cried, "I'm just beginning to take the cut of your jib. Trouble, says you. Are ye sailin' in company with that chink we passed a ways back on our course?"
"What do you know about the Eye of Buddha?" demanded Matt.
"Oh, ho," roared the other, "so that's yer lay, my hearty? Well, you take my advice, and keep your finger out o' that pie. I'm not sayin' a word about the Eye o' Buddha. Mayhap I know somethin' consarnin' the same, an' mayhap I don't. But I wouldn't give the fag end o' nothin' mixed in a kittle o' hot water for your chances if you stick an oar in that little matter."
There was that about the sailor which convinced Matt that he knew more concerning the ruby than he cared to tell.
"Stop!" cried the king of the motor boys.