British Mystery Classics - Arthur Morrison Edition (Illustrated). Morrison Arthur

now? Seen enough of the bottom?”

      “In a moment! “Hewitt shouted back; and he straightway began striding out in the direction of the ship. Arrived at the bows, he turned back to the point he started from, striding off again from there to the white stone he had kicked over, and from there to the vessel’s side again. Merrick watched him in intense amazement, and hurried, as well as he might, after the light of Hewitt’s lamp. Arrived for the second time at the bows of the ship, Hewitt turned and made his way along the side to the ladder, and forthwith ascended, followed by Merrick. There was no halt at the deck this time, and the two made there way up and up into the lighter water above, and so to the world of air.

      On the tug, as the men were unscrewing them from there waterproof prisons, Merrick asked Hewitt —

      “Will you try the ‘ lotion ‘ now?”

      “No,” Hewitt replied, “I won’t go quite so far as that. But I will have a little whisky, if you’ve any in the cabin. And give me a pencil and a piece of paper.”

      These things were brought, and on the paper Martin Hewitt immediately wrote a few figures and kept it in his hand.

      “I might easily forget those figures,” he observed.

      Merrick wondered, but said nothing.

      Once more comfortably in the cabin, and clad in his usual garments, Hewitt asked if Merrick could produce a chart of the parts thereabout.

      “Here you are,” was the reply, “coast and all. Big enough, isn’t it? I’ve already marked the position of the wreck on it in pencil. She lies pointing north by east as nearly exact as anything.”

      “As you’ve begun it,” said Hewitt, “I shall take the liberty of making a few more pencil marks on this.” And with that he spread out the crumpled note of figures, and began much ciphering and measuring. Presently he marked certain points on a spare piece of paper, and drew through them two lines forming an angle. This angle he transferred to the chart, and, placing a ruler over one leg of the angle, lengthened it out till it met the coast-line.

      “There we are,” he said musingly. “And the nearest village to that is Lostella — indeed, the only coast village in that neighbourhood.” He rose. “Bring me the sharpest-eyed person on board,” he said; “that is, if he were here all day yesterday.”

      “But what’s up? What’s all this mathematical business over? Going to find that bullion by rule of three?”

      Hewitt laughed. “Yes, perhaps,” he said, “but Where’s your sharp look-out? I want somebody who can tell me everything that was visible from the deck of this tug all day yesterday.”

      “Well, really I believe the very sharpest chap is the boy. He’s most annoyingly observant sometimes. I’ll send for him.”

      He came — a bright, snub-nosed, impudent-looking young ruffian.

      “See here, my boy,” said Merrick, “polish up your wits and tell this gentleman what he asks.”

      “Yesterday,” said Hewitt, “no doubt you saw various pieces of wreckage floating about?”

      “Yessir.”

      “What were they?”

      “Hatch-gratings mostly — nothin’ much else. There’s some knockin’ about now.”

      “I saw them. Now, remember. Did you set a hatch-grating floating yesterday that was different from the others? A painted one, for instance — those out there now are not painted, you know.”

      “Yessir, I see a little white ’un painted, bobbin’ about away beyond the foremast of the Nicobar.”

      “You’re sure of that?”

      “Certain sure, sir — it was the only painted thing floatin’. And to-day it’s washed away somewheres.”

      “So I noticed. You’re a smart lad. Here’s a shilling for you — keep your eyes open and perhaps you’ll find a good many more shillings before you’re an old man. That’s all.”

      The boy disappeared, and Hewitt turned to Merrick and said, “I think you may as well send that wire you spoke of. If I get the commission I think I may recover that bullion. It may take some little time, or, on the other hand, it may not. If you’ll write the telegram at once, I’ll go in the same boat as the messenger. I’m going to take a walk down to Lostella now — it’s only two or three miles along the coast, but it will soon be getting dark.”

      “But what sort of a clue have you got? I didn’t ”

      “Never mind,” replied Hewitt, with a chuckle. “Officially, you know, I’ve no right to a clue just yet — I’m not commissioned. When I am I’ll tell you everything.”

      Hewitt was scarcely ashore when he was seized by the excited Brasyer. “Here you are,” he said. “I was coming aboard the tug again. I’ve got more news. You remember I said I was going out with that railway clerk this afternoon, and meant pumping him? Well, I’ve done it and rushed away — don’t know what he’ll think’s up. As we were going along we saw Norton, the steward, on the other side of the way, and the clerk recognised him as one of the men who brought the cases to be sent off; the other was the skipper, I’ve no doubt, from his description. I played him artfully, you know, and then he let out that both the cases were addressed to Mackrie at his address in London! He looked up the entry, he said, after I left when I first questioned him, feeling curious. That’s about enough, I think, eh? I’m off to London now — I believe Mackrie’s going to-night. I’ll have him! Keep it dark! “And the zealous second officer

      dashed off without waiting for a reply. Hewitt looked after him with an amused smile, and turned off towards Lostella.

      III.

      It was about eleven the next morning when Merrick received the following note, brought by a boatman:—

      “Dear Merrick, — Am I commissioned? If not, don’t trouble, but if I am, be just outside Lostella, at the turning before you come to the Smack Inn, at two o’clock. Bring with you a light cart, a policeman — or two perhaps will be better — and a man with a spade. There will probably be a little cabbage-digging. Are you fond of the sport? — Yours, Martin Hewitt.

      “P. S. — Keep all your men aboard; bring the spade artist from the town.”

      Merrick was off in a boat at once. His principals had replied to his telegram after Hewitt’s departure the day before, giving him a free hand to do whatever seemed best. With some little difficulty he got the policemen, and with none at all he got a light cart and a jobbing man with a spade. Together they drove off to the meeting-place.

      It was before the time, but Martin Hewitt was there, waiting. “You’re quick,” he said, “but the sooner the better. I gave you the earliest appointment I thought you could keep, considering what you had to do.”

      “Have you got the stuff, then?” Merrick asked anxiously.

      “No, not exactly yet. But I’ve got this,” and Hewitt held up the point of his walking-stick. Protruding half an inch or so from it was the sharp end of a small gimlet, and in the groove thereof was a little white wood, such as commonly remains after a gimlet has been used.

      “Why, what’s that?”

      “Never mind. Let us move along — I’ll walk. I think we’re about at the end of the job — it’s been a fairly lucky one, and quite simple. But I’ll explain after.”

      Just beyond the Smack Inn, Hewitt halted the cart, and all got down. They looped the horse’s reins round a hedge-stake and proceeded the small remaining distance on foot, with the policemen behind, to avoid a premature scare. They turned up a lane behind a few small and rather dirty cottages facing the sea, each with its patch of kitchen garden behind.