“Well,” I said at length, as we strolled along beside the dark, silent stream, “tell me the story of the treasure as my enemies know it. We are friends, Miss Drummond, and our enemies are mutual. Cannot we unite forces and combat them?”
“Oh!” she sighed, “I only wish we could. I fear, however, that it is impossible.” There was a pathos in her voice which showed that the words came direct from a heart overburdened with grief.
“What do these men know about me?” I inquired.
“Everything. They have watched you vigilantly day and night, and are aware of every movement on your part. They know the whole story of how you discovered the derelict, and what you found on board. They even know the contents of certain of the parchments you recovered—one, I think, had a number of signatures upon it.”
“The one stolen from Mr. Staffurth’s?” I cried.
“Yes. But they had a copy of that long before. From what I’ve heard, there was on board your steamer a man named Harding, who had sailed as seaman, but who was a professor of Latin who had come down in the world. It was he who made the copy and translation and sold it to some one, who afterwards sold it to Purvis. The latter lost no time in coming here and buying the parchment from Knutton, thus forestalling you.”
“Was Harding previously acquainted with Purvis?”
“I think so. The copy and information were not, however, sold direct, but through a third person.”
“Are they sanguine of success?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered. “By some means they’ve discovered evidence that the gold is concealed in the Manor House.”