"Not a friend of yours, I hope?" said Mr. Chalk, at last.
"Who?" inquired the captain, starting from his reverie.
"The dead man atop of the treasure," replied the other.
"No," said the captain, briefly.
"Is it worth much?" asked Mr. Chalk.
"Roughly speaking, about half a million," responded the captain, calmly.
Mr. Chalk rose and walked up and down the room. His eyes were bright and
his face pinker than usual.
"Why don't you get it?" he demanded, at last, pausing in front of his
host.
"Why, it ain't mine," said the captain, staring. "D'ye think I'm a
thief?"
Mr. Chalk stared in his turn. "But who does it belong to, then?" he
inquired.
"I don't know," replied the captain. "All I know is, it isn't mine, and
that's enough for me. Whether it was rightly come by I don't know.
There it is, and there it'll stay till the crack of doom."
"Don't you know any of his relations or friends?" persisted the other.
"I know nothing of him except his name," said the captain, "and I doubt
if even that was his right one. Don Silvio he called himself--a
Spaniard. It's over ten years ago since it happened. My ship had been
bought by a firm in Sydney, and while I was waiting out there I went for
a little run on a schooner among the islands.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37