"The police won't be able to do it—I'm as sure of that as I am that I am lying here in this bed this minute. While everything connected with that iron chest and its contents seemed to condemn me to a run of hard luck, it has always been you and your good fortune that stepped in, at the last minute, and saved the day. I am positive that you can save the day now. There is that Obeah woman, the voodoo priestess who aided you so strangely and so well the other time. Go to her. She is a friend of yours. Ask her to help you."
"I don't think——"
"You must promise me, Matt!" insisted Townsend vehemently. "I tell you I am to blame for the loss of the diamonds, for I should have had Jurgens, Whistler, and Bangs sent to jail when it was in my power to do so. Will you promise?"
Cassidy gave Matt a significant look. It asked Matt, for the sake of Townsend's comfort and health, to agree to a task whose accomplishment would be difficult and perhaps impossible.
"Very well," said Matt, quietly stepping to the bedside and taking Townsend's hand in a firm pressure, "I promise."
"That you will keep after the thieves until you finally recover the diamonds?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall rest content," said Townsend. "Your good luck, I know, will go with you. Go and find the voodoo woman. Give me some medicine, Cassidy, for I'm about played out."
Townsend sank back on his pillow and closed his eyes.
Matt looked at him, at the haggard, careworn expression on his face, at the gray hair sweeping his temples, and, for the first time, realized what the difficulties and perils connected with that mysterious iron chest had meant to Archibald Townsend. As he turned softly away and moved toward the door, his heart was steeled with resolution to do his utmost—and to win!