Garcia was evidently, as the listening detective discerned, a
very shrewd, quick-witted man.
He fixed his keen dark eyes on the old smuggler, and said:
"There is something you are keeping back from me; come now, I
will pay you one hundred dollars to tell me Renie's history."
"You will give a hundred dollars?" Pearce exclaimed, in an
eager tone.
"Yes, I will."
"You will pay the money right down?"
"Yes."
"I will show the letter."
The old man went down in his pocket, and drew forth the
time-stained letter he had been reading when the detective
first looked in upon him, and drawing closer to the light,
said:
"I won't show you the whole letter, but I will read just one
portion to you," and he read as follows:
"DEAR Tom,--There has been one thing on my mind for a long
time. I am getting old, and at any time might die, and I have
a secret which I feet I should share with you in order to
guard against accidents. Upon that terrible night when Renie
was placed in my care, there was also consigned to my keeping
a box--a sealed box--which I was never to open until Renie
should reach the age of twenty-one, or be called for by
parties claiming her as their child. I was given to
understand that the box contained proofs of the dear child's
birth and parentage, and it was hinted that some day she would
inherit an immense fortune. I never told you about the box,
but when I return I will confide to you the place where it is
concealed, so that you will be prepared to carry out the trust
in case anything should happen to me before Renie becomes of
age, or is claimed by those who placed her in my charge."
The remainder of the letter had no bearing upon the case of
Renie, but was devoted to general matters.
After Tom Pearce had concluded the reading there followed a
momentary silence. The man Garcia appeared to be lost in deep
thought. The old smuggler also appeared to be lost in deep
meditation.
After an interval Garcia said:
"From that letter it would appear that the proofs of the
girl's identity were in your wife's possession?"
"Yes."
"Did she keep her promise to you?"
"You mean did she inform me' where the box was hidden?"
"Yes."
"She did not."
"And she died without making the revelation?"
"Yes, she died very suddenly."
"Did you ever search over her papers?"
"I did."
"And never came across the slightest clew?"
"Never!"
"Why was it she did not make a confidant of you?"
"Well, I was a pretty wild sort of man in those days, and it's
my idea that many precious jewels are hidden in that box."
The eyes of the man Garcia glistened as he asked:
"What makes you think so?"
"Well, my old woman let fall many strange hints now and then,
and always said that Renie would be rich some day--immensely
rich."
"She meant when claimed by her friends?"
"Yes; but she once said that Renie would be rich whether her
friends claimed her or not; and what is more, money was always
ready when anything was needed for the girl."
"But the girl has been allowed to run loose."
"Not altogether; no, sir, not altogether; Renie has received
an expensive education, and my wife always found the money to
pay the bills; the girl thinks she was educated out of my hard
earnings, but never a dollar or my money went for her support
until after the old woman died!"
"Have you ever searched for the box?"
"I have."
"Do you suppose your wife ever opened it?"
"That I cannot tell, but once when she and I were in the City
of New York, we read about a great singer who had some
magnificent jewels, and my wife said to me: 'I'll wager I
could-show jewels handsomer and richer than that critter's
got, and they claim hers are valued at a hundred thousand
dollars.'"
The detective heard all these strange revelations, and he made
up his mind that there was a big job falling into his hands.
"You say you have searched for the box?"
"Yes."
"And never found it or gained any clew as to its whereabouts?"
"Never."
"Has Renie any knowledge of the box?"
"I don't know whether my wife ever made a confidant of the
child."
"Has the girl ever spoken of it?"
"Never."
"And you have never mentioned it to her?"
"Never."
"Who was with your wife when she died?"
"Renie."
"She may have made a final revelation to the girl!"
"I think not."
"How long has your wife been dead?"
"Three years."
"Tom Pearce, all you tell me makes me anxious to take
charge of the girl; but tell me all the circumstances under
which she came to be placed in your charge."
After a moment's thought the old man said:
"I will.
"One calm winter's day, the boating men hereabouts were
surprised to see a handsome and trim-built yacht come sailing
through the channel; and running up the bay to a good
anchorage, she let go her iron and lay like a great swan on
the water.
"A short time afterward, a foreign-looking man was landed on
the beach, and he strolled around among the fishermen's buts
and only spoke when addressed by some of the fishermen; but I
tell you his great black eyes were busy glancing around. No
one knew at the time what he was looking for, but it was
evident he was searching for something, and my wife and I
later on were the only ones who fell into the mystery."
"The man was studying the faces of the people hereabouts?"
suggested Garcia.
"That was just what he was doing, and later on he made
inquiries here and there, and as events proved, my wife was
the woman who struck his fancy."
"And did he bring her the child?"
"Hold on! let me tell the story just as the events happened.
I told you it was in the winter when the yacht hove to in the
bay; well, one bitter and blustering night about three days
after the arrival of the yacht, I was over on the mainland
having a carouse, and toward morning took the chances of
crossing the bay in a catboat to my home. How I ever reached
here in safety I'll never tell, but I ran on to the beach all
right, and footed to my shanty! Well, sir, as I neared the
house pretty well sobered, the first thing I heard was the
wail of an infant; and I tell you I was surprised, and
entering the house I saw my wife with a lovely child in her
arms, which she was feeding with a spoon.
"'Hello, Betsy,' I yelled, 'where did you get that little
squealer from?'
"Well, sir, my wife raised her finger to her lips, and warned
me to be silent, and in a low tone told me that on the
following day she would tell me all about it. Well, you see
I was pretty well fagged out, and I always had an idea that
what my wife said and done was right. So I tumbled into bed
without making any further inquiries.
"Well, the next morning my good wife told me as how amidst the
storm when it was at its greatest fury, the strange man who
had come ashore from the yacht, entered our cabin having a
bundle wrapped in his arms, and she told me how surprised she
was when he opened his bundle and discovered a beautiful
little child about a year old."
"Renie was only a year old when placed in your charge."
"That's all, sir."
"Well, proceed."
"There ain't much more to tell; my wife told me that the man,
had left the child in her charge, and that we were to be well
paid for its keep; and as long as Betsy thought it as all
right, I made no objections."
"Did the man ever come again?"
"No, sir; the day following the bringing of the child ashore
the yacht sailed away and never since has her prow plowed the
waters of the bay. Nor has anyone belonging to her ever been
seen in these parts."
"And how long ago did this occur?"
"Nigh onto seventeen years ago, sir."
"And Renie is about eighteen years old?"
"Thereabouts, sir."
"It is not likely that she will ever be claimed."
"Hardly, sir."
"It is not likely that the box will ever be found."
"Hardly, sir."
There was one man, however, who dissented from the latter
opinion; the detective in his own mind resolved that he would
find that box, if it took him years to trace it; meantime the
man Garcia opened his scheme.
"Tom, you must let me have the girl."
"I am willing; but the girl herself objects."
"She does?"
"Yes."
"You have spoken to her?"
"Yes; I told her a rich gentleman in New York, wished to adopt
her, a man who would bring her up as his own child; but she
answered that she did not wish to go to New York; did not
desire to be adopted, and would not leave me."
"She must be compelled to go with me!"
"I wouldn't like to do that."
"Listen, Tom, let me have the girl, and I will pay, you two
thousand dollars down in gold!"
"But she will not go with you."
"We can manage that."
"How do you mean to manage it?"
"We'll play a trick on her, and I tell you when once I get her
in my house, she will find things so pleasant and delightful
she will never wish to return to this place again!"
"I can't play no tricks on the gal! no, no, she's got perfect
confidence in me, and I would not betray her confidence, not
even for two thousand dollars in gold! And I'm a poor man,
sir, very poor, and I'm old and getting feeble!"
"I'll tell you what we can do, Tom; you can bring her to New
York to visit me."
"Yes."
"And then we may be able to persuade her to remain."
"I'll think it over; but see here, why is it you are so
anxious to get possession of the girl?"
"I do not wish to see one so lovely and beautiful living in
such a miserable condition."
"See here, Garcia, do you mean that girl harm?"
"Why, old man, what could prompt you to ask that question?"
"Well, I'll tell you, you're so anxious; 'tis just come over
my mind that you don't mean just what's right. Now, see here;
it wouldn't do for you to mean any harm to Renie. I'd follow,
any man who would harm her to the very death!"
As the old smuggler spoke he drew his knife front his belt and
laid it on the table in a suggestive manner.
"You can trust the girl with me; but where is she, to-night?"
"Can't tell, sir; nights like these she likes to roam the
beach; she's a strange girl, sir, but I'd never have any harm
come to her!"
"Will you consent to bring her to New York on a Visit?"
"I'll think the matter over, and--"
The further remarks of the old smuggler were cut short by a
shrill scream of agony which broke the stillness of the night.