Neither Mr. Staffurth, his housekeeper, nor the servant girl had heard a sound. It seemed that only after searching the study thoroughly had the burglars turned their attention to the safe. There were three of them, the detective asserted, for there had been a shower in the night, and he found on the carpet distinct marks of muddy shoes. The instruments they had used on the safe were of the newest kind, and it seemed a mystery why they had not succeeded in opening it.
Having discovered the parchment with the seven signatures, they most naturally searched for the other documents found on board the derelict. Fortunately, however, the book penned by the noble Bartholomew remained in its place of security.
Of course this desperate attempt to gain possession of it removed all doubt that there was some one else besides myself endeavouring to solve the secret. But who could it be? Who could possibly know what was written upon those dry old parchments save Job Seal, Mr. Staffurth and myself? Seal was an honest man, quite content with the share of the spoil already in his hands, while it was to the interest of the old palæographist to solve the mystery in conjunction with myself.
Did the hoard of the sea-rover still exist?
Hundreds of times I put to myself that question. For answer I could only reflect that there was some one else, an unknown rival, who believed that it did, and who was sparing no effort to obtain the secret of its hiding-place.
Of course, it was quite possible that when the place of concealment was discovered it might be empty. Over three hundred years had passed, and in that time accident might have led to its discovery. There had certainly not been any betrayal of the secret, for while one cryptic document had been in the hands of the Knuttons, the key to it had been afloat, or submerged beneath the sea.
I took Mr. Staffurth aside, and we agreed to tell the police as little as possible, lest the facts should leak out to the newspapers. Therefore the old expert explained that the parchment books in his possession were precious ones, and most probably the thieves desired to obtain possession of them on behalf of some other person. So the detective, with an assistant, made copious notes, examined the marks of chisels and jemmies, and after a great show of investigation left the house.
“Ah, doctor,” exclaimed the old man with a sigh of relief, after they had gone; “I had no idea that our rivals were so close upon us. I think you had better deposit that book in your bank for greater security. The scoundrels, whoever they were, may pay me another visit.”
I expressed regret that he should thus have suffered on my account, but the poor old gentleman only laughed, saying, “My dear doctor, how could you help it? They want to get hold of the key to their cipher. Possibly, in their document, it is stated that there is a key to it in existence.”
“But how could they be aware that it is in your possession?”