The voodoo priestess apparently possessed powers of divination that were inexplicable. Her arts may have been wholly trickery, but, if so, a wonderful chain of coincidences had lent a cast of truth to her magic.
Matt had no belief in the supernatural, and his common sense was constantly struggling against the results of Yamousa's occult powers, as he and his friends had witnessed them. As a last resort, it might be possible to consult Yamousa with some show of success in this matter of the stolen gems.
This, at least, was what Matt had in mind when he left Townsend. The authorities, knowing the ins and outs of the Crescent City so well, could do infinitely more in the town than could Matt and his friends.
Without loss of time, Matt returned to the small hotel near Stuyvesant Dock, where he, Dick, and Carl had taken up their quarters. Dick and Carl were in their room, dressed and waiting to hear what Matt had to say.
Quickly as he could, the young motorist set forth the amazing events of the night. The sailor and the Dutch boy were greatly wrought up.
"Carl and I are loaded to the marks with all the blame," scowled Dick.
"Ve made some popples," wailed Carl, "und dey vas vat dit der pitzness."
"What's the use of doubles, anyhow?" went on Dick.
"Vyefer do two people look so mooch alike in dis vorlt?" added Carl. "I vonder oof I haf a touple? Oof I haf, he must be a bicture, aber I hope he don'd shove indo anyt'ing vat habbens mit me."
"You boys made only a natural mistake," said Matt. "That levee policeman was fooled, Cassidy was deceived, and so was Townsend. How can you blame yourselves when every one else took this double of mine just as you did?"