“Sure we will!” cried Jolly Bill. “I’ll get in the wake of that scoundrel Rod Marbury and take it away from him. Trust an old messmate for that!”
He seemed so hale and hearty that one could not help having a friendly feeling for him, and his weather-beaten face shone with the honesty of his purpose, while his shiny bald head seemed to give promise of a brighter sun rising on the affairs of Hiram Beegle.
“I’ll take you over to Shan’s place now, in my car,” offered Dr. Martin. “You need rest and quiet more than anything else. The police will look after things here.”
“Yes, we’ll look after things,” promised Chief Drayton. “I’ll lock up the cabin and bring you the key after this young man gets through dropping the key down the chimney, though I don’t see what good it’s going to do. I’ll lock up the place for you.”
“There isn’t much—to—to lock up—now,” said the old man slowly. “The treasure is gone!”
“Oh, we’ll get it back!” promised Chief Duncan. “What was in the box—diamonds or gold?”
“Neither one,” was the answer.
“Neither one? Then what was the treasure?” Chief Drayton wanted to know.
“Papers! Papers!” somewhat testily answered Mr. Beegle.
“Oh, stocks and bonds, I reckon. Well, you can stop payment on them. Better tell Judge Weston about it.”