“Quite right,” I said approvingly. “We ought to keep our knowledge to ourselves. People can believe or disbelieve, just as they like. If, however, they saw those bags of gold at the bank, I fancy it would convince them.”
“Or if they saw Old Mister Mystery with his red velvet jacket and sword,” he laughed. “Lor’, doctor, I’ll never forget the funny figure that chap cut when we hauled him out. He was real scared at first, wasn’t he?”
His words brought back to my memory that never-to-be-forgotten evening of our discovery. The mystery of how the cumbersome old vessel had got afloat again was not one of the least connected with it.
The reason of my visit was to tell him the result of my inquiries and the neat manner in which we had been foiled. Therefore, after some preliminaries, I explained to him all that I have set down in the previous chapter. He heard me through, blowing vigorously at his pipe and grunting, as was his habit. The amount of smoke his pipe emitted was an index to his thoughts. If pleased, his pipe burned slowly, the smoke rising in a tiny thin column; but if the contrary, the smoke came forth from pipe and mouth in clouds. The cabin was now so full that I could scarcely see across it, and when I arrived at the critical point and told him how I had been forestalled, he jumped up, exclaiming —
“The son of a gun! He actually sold it for ’arf a quid!”
“He has,” I answered sadly. “If we could only get it back it might be the means of bringing wealth to all of us.”
“Then you really believe in all this yarn what’s written in the parchments, doctor?” he asked.
“How can I do otherwise?” I said. “There are signatures and seals. Besides, I have, I think, sufficiently proved that Bartholomew da Schorno, whoever he was, lived once at Caldecott Manor, and further, that the Knuttons were owners of the Manor Farm. You must remember, too, that Mr. Staffurth is an expert, and not likely to mislead us.”
“Well, doctor,” he said, “the whole thing makes a queer yarn, an’ that’s a fact. Sometimes I almost feel as though the overhauling of Noah’s Ark was a dream, only you see we’ve already got about a thousand quid to go shares in. Now, what I’ve been thinkin’, doctor, is that you’ll want a fair understandin’ if you’re goin’ to follow this thing up. I’ll be away, and shall have to leave it all in your hands. Now, I’m a plain-spoken man—that you know. For my own part, I’m content with the thousand quid we hauled aboard, and if you like to forego your claim to the half of it, I’ll forego my claim to whatever you may find ashore. Forgive me for speakin’ plain, doctor, won’t you?—for it’s no good a-beating about the bush.”
“Well,” I said, “if you are ready to accept such an agreement, I also am ready, although I think, captain, that you may be doing an injustice to yourself.”