"Which isn't surprising. You can't find him without the aid of a
detective or a guide."
"Then, who ever finds him?"
"No one!--and there is the shame. We accepted the vast labors and the
money of our Ambassador to France in locating the remains of America's
first Naval Hero; we sent an Embassy and a warship to bring them back;
we received them with honor, orated over them, fired guns over them.
And then, when the spectators had departed--assuming they were to be
deposited in the crypt of the Chapel--we calmly chucked them away on a
couple of trestles, under a stairway in Bancroft Hall, as we would an
old broom or a tin can. That's _our_ way of honoring the only Naval
Commander we had in the Revolution. It would have been better, much
better, had we left him to rest in the quiet seclusion of his grave in
France--lost, save in memory, with the halo of the past and privacy of
death around him."
"And why didn't we finish the work?" said Croyden. "Why bring him here,
with the attendant expense, and then stop, just short of completion?
Why didn't we inter him in the Chapel (though, God save me from burial
there), or any place, rather than on trestles under a stairway in a
midshipmen's dormitory?"
"Because the appropriation was exhausted, or because the Act wasn't
worded to include burial, or because the Superintendent didn't want the
bother, or because it was a nuisance to have the remains around--or
some other absurd reason. At all events, he is there in the cellar, and
he is likely to stay there, till Bancroft Hall is swallowed up by the
Bay. The junket to France, the parade, the speeches, the spectacular
part are over, so, who cares for the entombment, and the respect due
the distinguished dead?"
"I don't mean to be disrespectful," he observed, "but it's hard luck to
have one's bones disturbed, after more than a hundred years of
tranquillity, to be conveyed clear across the Atlantic, to be orated
over, and sermonized over, and, then, to be flung aside like old junk
and forgot. However, we have troubles of our own--I know I have--more
real than Paul Jones! He may be glad he's dead, so he won't have any to
worry over. In fact, it's a good thing to be dead--one is saved from a
heap of worry."
She looked at him, without replying.
"What's the use?" he said. "A daily struggle to procure fuel sufficient
to keep up the fire."
"What's the use of anything! Why not make an end of life, at once?" she
asked.
"Sometimes, I'm tempted," he admitted. "It's the leap in the dark, and
no returning, that restrains, I reckon--and the fact that we must face
it alone. Otherwise----"
She laughed softly. "Otherwise death would have no terrors! You have
begged the question, or what amounts to it. But, to return to
Annapolis; what else did you see?"
"You have been there?"
"Many times."
"Then you know what I saw," he replied. "I had no wonderful
adventures. This isn't the day of the rapier and the mask."
She half closed her eyes and looked at him through the long lashes.
"What were you doing down on Greenberry Point?" she demanded.
"How did you know?" he asked, surprised.
"Oh! very naturally. I was in Annapolis--I saw your name on the
register--I inquired--and I had the tale of the camp. No one, however,
seemed to think it queer!" laughing.
"Why should they? Camping out is entirely natural," Croyden answered.
"With the Chairman of the Senate Committee on Naval Affairs?"
"We were in his party!"
"A party which until five days ago he had not joined--at least, so the
Superintendent told me, when I dined at his house. He happened to
mention your name, found I knew you--and we gossiped. Perhaps we
shouldn't, but we did."
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing! he didn't seem even to wonder at your being there----"
"But _you_ did?"
"It's the small town in me, I suppose--to be curious about other people
and their business; and it was most suspicious."
"What was most suspicious?" he asked.
"Your actions. First, you hire a boat and cross the Bay direct from
Hampton to Annapolis. Second, you procure, through Senator Rickrose, a
permit from the Secretary of the Navy to camp on Greenberry Point.
Third, you actually do camp, there, for nearly, or quite three weeks.
Query:--Why? Why go clear to the Western Shore, and choose a
comparatively inaccessible and exposed location on United States
property, if the idea were only a camp? Why not camp over on Kent
Island, or on this coast? Anywhere, within a few miles of Hampton,
there are scores of places better adapted than Greenberry Point."
"You should be a story teller!" he laughed. "Your imagination is
marvelous. With a series of premises, you can reach whatever conclusion
you wish--you're not bound by the probabilities."
"You're simply obscuring the point," she insisted. "In this instance,
my premises are facts which are not controverted. You admit them to be
correct. So, why? Why?----" She held up her hand. "Don't answer! I'm
not asking for information. I don't want to be told. I'm simply
'chaffing of you,' don't you know!"
"With just a lingering curiosity, however," he added.
"A casual curiosity, rather," she amended.
"Which, some time, I shall gratify. You've trailed me down--we _were_
on Greenberry Point for a purpose, but nothing has come of it, yet--and
it's likely a failure."
"My dear Mr. Croyden, I don't wish to know. It was a mistake to refer
to it. I should simply have forgot what I heard in Annapolis--I'll
forget now, if you will permit."
"By no means, Miss Carrington. You can't forget, if you would--and I
would not have you, if you could. Moreover, I inherited it along with
Clarendon, and, as you were my guide to the place, it's no more than
right that you should know. I think I shall confide in you--no use to
protest, it's got to come!" he added.
"You are determined?--Very well, then, come over to the couch in the
corner, where we can sit close and you can whisper."
He arose, with alacrity. She put out her hand and led him--and he
suffered himself to be led.
"Now!" when they were seated, "you may begin. Once upon a time----" and
laughed, softly. "I'll take this, if you've no immediate use for it,"
she said, and released her hand from his.
"For the moment," he said. "I shall want it back, presently, however."
"Do you, by any chance, get all you want?" she inquired.
"Alas! no! Else I would have kept what I already had."
She put her hands behind her, and faced around.
"Begin, sir!" she said. "Begin! and try to be serious."
"Well,--once upon a time----" Then he stopped. "I'll go over to the
house and get the letter--it will tell you much better than I can. You
will wait here, _right here_, until I return?"
She looked at him, with a tantalizing smile.
"Won't it be enough, if I am here _when_ you return?" she asked.
When he came out on the piazza the rain had ceased, the clouds were
gone, the temperature had fallen, and the stars were shining brightly
in a winter sky.
He strode quickly down the walk to the street and crossed it diagonally
to his own gates. As he passed under the light, which hung near the
entrance, a man walked from the shadow of the Clarendon grounds and
accosted him.
"Mr. Croyden, I believe?" he said.
Croyden halted, abruptly, just out of distance.
"Croyden is my name?" he replied, interrogatingly.
"With your permission, I will accompany you to your house--to which I
assume you are bound--for a few moments' private conversation."
"Concerning what?" Croyden demanded.
"Concerning a matter of business."
"My business or yours?"
"Both!" said the man, with a smile.
Croyden eyed him suspiciously. He was about thirty years of age, tall
and slender, was well dressed, in dark clothes, a light weight
top-coat, and a derby hat. His face was ordinary, however, and Croyden
had no recollection of ever having seen it--certainly not in Hampton.
"I'm not in the habit of discussing business with strangers, at night,
nor of taking them to my house," he answered, brusquely. "If you have
anything to say to me, say it now, and be brief. I've no time to
waste."
"Some one may hear us," the man objected.
"Let them--I've no objection."
"Pardon me, but I think, in this matter, you would have objection."
"You'll say it quickly, and here, or not at all," snapped Croyden.
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"It's scarcely a subject to be discussed on the street," he observed,
"but, if I must, I must. Did you ever hear of Robert Parmenter? Oh! I
see that you have! Well, the business concerns a certain letter--need I
be more explicit?"
"If you wish to make your business intelligible."
The fellow shrugged his shoulders again.
"As you wish," he said, "though it only consumes time, and I was under
the impression that you were in a hurry. However: To repeat--the
business concerns a letter, which has to do with a certain treasure
buried long ago, on Greenberry Point, by the said Robert Parmenter. Do
I make myself plain, now, sir?"
"Your language is entirely intelligible--though I cannot answer for the
facts recited."
The man smiled imperturbably, and went on:
"The letter in question having come into your possession recently, you,
with two companions, spent three weeks encamped on Greenberry Point,
ostensibly for your health, or the night air, or anything else that
would deceive the Naval authorities. During which time, you dug up the
entire Point, dragged the waters immediately adjoining--and then
departed, very strangely choosing for it a time of storm and change of
weather. My language is intelligible, thus far?"
Croyden nodded--rather amused. Evidently, the thieves had managed to
communicate with a confederate, and this was a hold-up. They assumed he
had been successful.
"Therefore, it is entirely reasonable to suppose that your search was
not ineffectual. In plain words, you have recovered the treasure."
The man paused, waiting for an answer.
Croyden only smiled, and waited, too.
"Very good!--we will proceed," said the stranger. "The jewels were
found on Government land. It makes no difference whether recovered on
the Point or on the Bay--the law covering treasure trove, I am
informed, doesn't apply. The Government is entitled to the entire find,
it being the owner in fee of the land."
"You talk like a lawyer!" said Croyden.
The stranger bowed. "I have devoted my spare moments to the study of
the law----"
"And how to avoid it," Croyden interjected.
The other bowed again.
"And also how to prevent _others_ from avoiding it," he replied,
suggestively. "Let us take up that phase, if it please you."
"And if it doesn't please?" asked Croyden, suppressing an inclination
to laugh.
"Then let us take it up, any way--unless you wish to forfeit your find
to the Government."
"Proceed!" said Croyden. "We are arriving, now, at the pith of the
matter. What do you offer?"
"We want an equal divide. We will take Parmenter's estimate and
multiply it by two, though jewels have appreciated more than that in
valuation. Fifty thousand pounds is two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars, which will total, according to the calculation, half a million
dollars,--one half of which amount you pay us as our share."
"Your share! Why don't you call it properly--blackmail?" Croyden
demanded.
"As you wish!" the other replied, airily. "If you prefer blackmail to
share, it will not hinder the contract--seeing that it is quite as
illegal on your part as on ours. Share merely sounds a little better
but either obtains the same end. So, suit yourself. Call it what you
will--but _pay_."
"Pay--or what?"
"Pay--or lose everything!" was the answer. "If you are not familiar
with the law covering the subject under discussion, let me enlighten
you."
"Thunder! how you do roll it out!" laughed Croyden. "Get on! man, get
on!"
"I was endeavoring to state the matter succinctly," the stranger
replied, refusing to be hurried or flustered. "The Common Law and the
practice of the Treasury Department provide, that all treasure found on
Government land or within navigable waters, is Government property. If
declared by the finder, immediately, he shall be paid such reward as
the Secretary may determine. If he does not declare, and is informed
on, the informer gets the reward. You will observe that, under the law,
you have forfeited the jewels--I fancy I do not need to draw further
deductions."
"No!--it's quite unnecessary," Croyden remarked. "Your fellow thieves
went into that phase (good word, I like it!) rather fully, down on
Greenberry Point. Unluckily, they fell into the hands of the police,
almost immediately, and we have not been able to continue the
conversation."
"I have the honor to continue the conversation--and, in the interim,
you have found the treasure. So, Parmenter's letter won't be
essential--the facts, circumstances, your own and Mr. Macloud's
testimony, will be sufficient to prove the Government's case. Then, as
you are aware, it's pay or go to prison for larceny."
"There is one very material hypothesis, which you assume as a fact, but
which is, unfortunately, not a fact," said Croyden. "We did not find
the treasure."
The man laughed, good-humoredly.
"Naturally!" he replied. "We don't ask you to acknowledge the
finding--just pay over the quarter of a million and we will forget
everything."
"My good man, I'm speaking the truth!" Croyden answered. "Maybe it's
difficult for you to recognize, but it's the truth, none the less. I
only wish I _had_ the treasure--I think I'd be quite willing to share
it, even with a blackmailer!"
The man laughed, again.
"I trust it will give no offence if I say I don't believe you."
"You can believe what you damn please!" Croyden retorted.
And, without more ado, he turned his back and went up the path to
Clarendon.