“Exactly. That is the reason why I suggest that you should take a journey to Caldecott and make inquiries if any of the names of the present inhabitants coincide with any of the nine names mentioned in this document.”
“Well,” I said, excitedly, “the affair is growing in interest. A treasure hunt here in England is rather unusual in these days. I hope, Mr. Staffurth, you can find time to accompany me for a couple of days down there.”
“No,” he declared, “go down yourself and see whether you can discover anything regarding persons bearing any of these names.”
Then taking a slip of paper he copied the seven signatures, together with those of Richard Knutton and Bartholomew da Schorno himself, afterwards handing it to me.
“The treasure may, of course, be concealed at Caldecott,” he said. “Indeed, if it is still in existence and intact, it is, I conjecture, hidden there. At any rate, if you make careful investigation, and at the same time avoid attracting undue attention, we may discover something that will give us a clue. The treasure, you must recollect, was placed in hiding about three hundred years ago, and it may have been discovered by some prying person during those three centuries.”
“Well,” I said, “it is quite evident that these documents themselves have fallen into no other hands except our own.”
“True; but seven persons, in addition to this Richard Knutton, knew the place where the loot was hidden. One or other of them may have broken their oath.”
“They might all have been on board the Seahorse when she was lost,” I suggested. “From the rough manner in which the agreement was prepared it seems as though it were written while at sea.”
“Exactly. It was certainly never prepared by a public notary. The men evidently did not think fit to expose their secret to any outsider—they were far too wary for that, knowing that the English Government would in all probability lay claim to it.”
“So they will now, even if we discover it. It will be treasure-trove, and belong to the Crown.”