The Pirate of Panama: A Tale of the Fight for Buried Treasure. William MacLeod Raine

deviltry danced in his eyes. It was not necessary to tell me that he was having a pleasant time.

      "Au revoir be it," I nodded, swallowing my bad temper.

      Once more he gave us his bland smile, a bow of audacious effrontery, then whipped open the door and was gone.

      It may be guessed he left me in no exultant mood. From the first the fellow had taken and held the upper hand. I had come through with no distinction at all and had let him walk off with the booty. But if there be those who think my spirit small I ask them to remember that a revolver staring one in the eye is a potent persuader.

      Miss Wallace was the first to speak.

      "You know now why I think him a dreadful man," she said, taking a deep breath of relief.

      "Just a moment," I excused myself, and ran into the outer office.

      Our office Cerberus was sitting at the gate of entry reading the enthralling story of "Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon." From my pocket I fished one of the few dollars it held.

      "Jimmie, follow that man who has just gone out. Find out where he goes and whom he meets. If he stops anywhere keep a note of the place."

      The eyes of Young America grew big and round with astonishment, then lit with ecstatic delight. He was going to be a real detective.

      "The boss?" He jerked a dirty thumb in the direction of the chief clerk.

      "I'll make it right with him. Hurry!"

      "You bet I'll keep a peeper on him," he bragged, reaching for his hat.

      He was gone.

      I returned to my client.

      "Excuse me. I wanted to put a spy on your cousin. If he takes the map to a safe-deposit vault we ought to know where. And that reminds me—— What was it you gave him? I thought the map was on my table here?"

      "I gave him a copy of it, one my father took years ago."

      "But had it a corner torn off just like this one?"

      From her hand-bag she drew a scrap of paper. "I was tearing it off just before I took it out."

      My admiration was genuine enough.

      "You're a cool hand, Miss Wallace. My hat is off to you."

      The color deepened slightly in her cheeks. "That was nothing. I just happened to think of it."

      "You saved the day, anyhow. He stands only an equal chance with us."

      "But he doesn't. My father purposely made an error in the details in case the map happened to fall into the wrong hands. And the latitude and longitude aren't marked."

      I could have shouted my delight.

      "But he has heard the diary read," she added. "In that the right latitude was given. If he happens to remember——"

      "A hundred to one he doesn't, and even at the worst he's no better off than we are."

      "Except that he has money and can finance an expedition in search of the treasure."

      I came to earth as promptly as Darius Green.

      "By Jove! that's true."

      For the humiliating fact was that I had not a hundred dollars with which to bless myself, having just lost my small inheritance in a wildcat mining venture.

      "I suppose it would take a lot of money?" she said timidly.

      "Where is the treasure hidden?"

      "On the coast of Panama."

      "Near the canal zone?"

      "I don't know. The latitude and the longitude are exactly marked, but I haven't looked them up."

      "We'll have to outfit a ship here, or make our start from Panama. Yes, it's going to take money."

      "Then we can't go any farther with it. I have no means," she said quietly.

      The lawyer in me came reluctantly to the fore.

      "I suppose I ought to advise you to compromise with Captain Bothwell."

      Resolution flashed in the eyes that looked straight into mine.

      "I'd rather lose it all! He wouldn't stick to any bargain he made because—well, he would use the treasure as a lever to—get something else he wants."

      The flush in her cheeks told me what else it was he wanted, and my heart was lifted within me. Bothwell intended to marry her, and she did not intend that he should. My wishes ran pat with hers.

      "That is final, is it?"

      "Quite. If you don't want to go on with it you can drop out, Mr. Sedgwick. I thank you for your kindness——"

      "And who's talking of dropping out? I suggested compromise because I thought I ought, but I'm the pleased man that you won't listen to my good advice. No, no! I'm in to stay, and here's my hand on it."

      "You're just spoiling for the fight," she smiled, her little hand in mine.

      "Indeed, and that's a guess which rings the bell. I'll not be satisfied till I try another fall with Mr. Bothwell."

      "You're a right funny lawyer."

      "I'll tell you a secret. My father was an Irish filibuster in Cuba. He died with his back to a wall when I was five."

      "Then it's in the blood."

      "He had a chance to slip away by leaving his men, but Barry Sedgwick wasn't the man to take that kind of an opportunity."

      "The dear hero! How proud you must be of him," she said in the softest of voices.

      I nodded.

      "He's the best reference I can give you. Now, Miss Wallace, I'll have to tell this story—or part of it—before I can interest capital in the venture. You are willing that I should?"

      "Do whatever you must. It's in your hands."

      "First, we'll make sure of the map, then; and after that you can tell me the story of Doubloon Spit."

      Together we went to the International Safe Deposit vaults, rented a box, and put in it the map. Afterward we took a car for Golden Gate Park. There she told me the story, in substance if not in the same words, to be found in the next two chapters.

      Those who find interest only in the conventional had better read no farther. For this true tale runs red with the primal emotions of the old buccaneers. It is a story of love and hate, of heroism and cowardice, of treasure-trove and piracy on the high seas, of gaping wounds and foul murder. If this is not to your taste, fall out. My story is not for you.