They turned her around, and stood back toward the shore. On the way, while one of us stood guard over the two, the rest searched the schooner for the treasure, for the trunk. There was not a sign of gold anywhere aboard her.
We took turns, but found nothing, leaving not a bolt hole unsearched. It was disheartening, and looked like we had lost, after all.
"Well, what do you make of it?" I asked the messenger.
"Looks like they got us right, after all," he said; "we haven't the slightest clew to the money, and won't get it after they once get in to the police. They'll buy their way out, for there's not the slightest evidence they did the job, although I know it was them as well as they themselves."
"Plant it, you think?"
"Sure as death, they dropped it somewhere, and they only know just where. They'll take a chance at going up for a spell, doing their bit, and then getting the cache. It's on the course out somewhere, but just where who knows? We're out of sight of land now, and it'll take a wizard to locate it on the schooner's course."
"That's right enough," I asserted, "but how about trying them for a confession?"
"Go ahead," he replied gloomily.
I put it right up to the doctor. I promised him complete immunity if he would just tell where they had dropped that four hundred and odd pounds of gold.
The pair simply grinned in amusement. It seemed to tickle them immensely.