"Situation promising. Hold yourself in readiness. Our day is coming.—M.W."Tom ran to the door and shook it, but there was no sound. He gently whispered Wallion's name; there was no response, but in a second or two the steward came up and asked from the outside:"Did you require anything more, sir?""No, thank you, nothing," answered Tom. He flung himself down on the bed. Those few words on the card had been like refreshing wine to him. The blood mounted to his head, and his nerves tingled, but he was at a loss—turn or twist the words as he might—to account for such a message. Wallion's audacity, too, almost frightened him. How was all this to end?Certain signs indicated that the "Ariadne" was approaching her journey's end, and Tom began to get fidgety. For safety's sake he tore the card to bits, which he threw out of a porthole. In the east, land could be discerned, and the boat, still at top speed, passed a number of islands, sometimes nearer, sometimes further away, gray and red, with dabs of dark woods.Lunch was served at two o'clock, but Tom's appetite was gone."Shall we soon be there?" he asked."In about another hour," replied the steward civilly, but he beat a hasty retreat to avoid any further inquiries.An hour went by. Tom walked restlessly up and down in his tiny cabin. Then bit by bit a high mountain ridge came in sight about a thousand yards away, and a little later, when the yacht had slackened speed, a steep arid coast in some parts covered with tall firs, and then a wide valley with lighter foliage in the background. The engines stopped, and the yacht anchored about a hundred yards from a dilapidated wooden pier. The "Ariadne" had reached her goal.So this was Hurricane Island, and over there the "Black Valley"? On the left Tom noticed a jumble of sheds and chimneys.The wharf mentioned was a very simple affair, there was no work going on, but a score of men came out on the quay, from mere curiosity. At some distance down the valley could be seen a skeleton swing-bridge, leading into a dark hole on the mountain side; this was the deserted copper mine; but, save for this reminder of bygone industry, the surrounding country was desolate.A large motor boat came out from the quay, and when it got alongside the "Ariadne" Tom noticed at the wheel a man who might have been the foreman of the wharf. He had evidently come to welcome his employers. The boat slipped round to the bow of the yacht and the Captain shouted from the bridge:"Mr. Dixon is engaged, but lay to and come on board."There was a high sea and the yacht rocked considerably. Things began to be very lively on deck and Tom wondered what was going on.The steward came in hurriedly to remove the luncheon tray, and Tom had a shock.This time the man had left the door unlocked! Tom listened, thinking he might come back. In the direction of the stairs, he heard Dixon's voice in sharp altercation with the Doctor."It is impossible," he was saying; "it can't be done now, the sea is too rough. We shall have to wait an hour or two.""In an hour or two it may be too late," the Doctor replied."I don't think so. Besides it takes time to fix upon the exact place....""Well, and what about this Swede's friend whom we couldn't catch?""Haven't we thoroughly searched every nook and cranny? There wasn't a spot as big as a dollar left for any one to hide in. He isn't here, Corman. The wireless has given out, that is the solution of..." Their voices died away and they went up on deck.Tom strained every nerve, trying to impress upon his memory the things he had heard; he conquered his desire to rush out, for Wallion's instructions had only been "keep himself in readiness." And Wallion was at liberty, probably with a deep scheme in his mind. Trembling with excitement he muttered, "Let us hope it won't be long ... if only I knew."The yacht tugged at her cables, and Fir Island presently came in view. It was smaller and more wooded than Hurricane Island, and looked as if the foot of man had never trodden there.The "Ariadne" lay about midway in the long and broad channel, through which the waters flowed freely, and there was still a high sea running, though the storm had abated; the clouds were heavy and twilight was falling. The motor boat was towing a low, flat-bottomed barge, laden with a variety of mysterious implements, towards some point which Tom was unable to see. Immediately afterwards the yacht again weighed anchor and slowly proceeded in the same direction, stopped after backing a little, and again dropped anchor. Then feeble strokes became audible on the larboard side; the yacht was clearly alongside the barge.A thought shot through Tom's brain. They were surely lying immediately over the wreck of the "King Solomon." He felt he could no longer remain idle; in some way or another he must be doing. He opened the door and went into the corridor; the road was clear. Without any attempt to conceal his movements he walked straight into the saloon, where the lamps were already lighted, and there, by the table, with her back to the door, stood Elaine. Tom stopped short, but she had already heard him and now turned round. Her large, dark eyes sparkled, and a smile hovered round her trembling lips. She was grave yet excited."You?" she cried. "You?""Yes," he replied, taking her hands, "and you can't turn me out now," he added, half in jest. "We are still fellow-travelers, as you see, but it seems ages since I last talked to you."Without withdrawing her soft hands from his she continued: "How dared you come on board the yacht?""You were the magnet, Elaine."She blushed slightly, and her smile vanished; she looked furtively round."You ought not to have come...""Does my society bore you so much?""No, oh no, I am glad; you have done far too much for me already, I can never...""I do so want to be near you and be able to help you," he said, "if only you will tell me what I can do.""No, you can't help me.""It is true that I am but a sorry knight.""I don't mean that, but don't you see, can't you understand, that it is too late? ..."She pointed towards the table on which lay a number of sea-charts and drawings; the two wooden dolls had been carelessly thrown down among them."They have done their worst and we are entirely in their hands." Something in her tone made him lean towards her; her eyes burned with excitement and deep despair."Elaine," he asked impulsively, "you know all?""I do," she replied. "Oh, the scoundrels ... they deceived me, enticed me with lies ... my poor father ... Oh, Tom, it is too late..."Almost unconsciously she had called him by his Christian name; tears rose to her eyes and she leant her head against his shoulder."What an idyllic scene!" said an ironical voice at the door. "I am afraid we are disturbing them, Dixon."It was Doctor Corman and Dixon; on the threshold they stood still, an expression of scornful triumph on their faces."So we enticed you with lying words, Elaine?" said Corman mockingly. "What do you intend to do then, eh?""Shut up," said Tom, clenching his fists.Corman pretended to be greatly surprised."So you have been pleased to leave your cabin, Mr. Murner? Oh, well, it is of no consequence."Elaine had pulled herself together; the sight of the two men seemed to have put new vigor into her."Oh, yes, I know all about you, who choose a murderer for your friend and are worse than a thief yourself," she cried, in a loud, clear voice. "I overheard your conversation last night and am glad to be able to tell you the truth at last. Worse, yes, worse than a thief; compared withyoua thief is an honest man, you who rob widows and orphans, plunder the dead and commit murder for the sake of gold. I see everything clearly now; I hope the truth will scorch your soul when you think of what you have done—you liar, you devil."Corman's face twitched, and Dixon turned very white. After Elaine's accusing words there was a dead silence, till with a forced laugh Dixon said, rather hoarsely:"Well, Miss Robertson, maybe you are right, only you have told us the truth just two months too late, and you can't stop us now..."He looked around, but not at her. After some hesitation he passed in front of her and gathered up the papers from the table, looking at them with a covert smile."You see, my dear young lady, there are things in our miserable lives that you can't understand," he said.Then he left the saloon in silence, and Corman went with him.CHAPTER XXITEN FATHOMS FROM THE GOALThe wooden dolls still lay on the table, and as if in a dream, Tom noticed for the first time four other wooden figures on a shelf in the wall. A small marble clock on the same shelf gave forth six shrill, harsh strokes.Elaine had sunk down on a seat on the larboard of the yacht, trembling nervously after her recent outbreak. Tom took a chair by her side; he wanted to say something to comfort her, but could not think of anything."Don't say anything," she whispered with a nervous little smile which ended in a shiver. "I am not going to be hysterical...."Their attention was diverted by a noise and a light outside the window; they looked out, and saw that the barge had been towed alongside the yacht. Darkness lay over the sea, which had become much less turbulent. The searchlight turned obliquely on the long, low deck of the barge and its milk-white rays shone upon a curious spectacle. Preparations for hauling up 'King Solomon's' golden cargo were in full swing. A grotesque and clumsy gray figure, its feet weighted with lead, was walking along the planks; it was the diver. An assistant held the copper helmet in readiness, the breathing-tube was coiled round his body and a third man was looking after the air-pump. On the deck stood Dixon, Corman, and Toroni—the two former smoking in gloomy silence; the young girl's words must surely have burnt themselves into their consciences and embittered their hour of triumph.Toroni, on the other hand, was watching the work with apathetic curiosity, self-centered, awaiting the result of the plot he had engineered with violence and cunning twelve months before; the hour when his hands should close on the coveted six millions. Did he really intend his two accomplices to have a share in the booty? Tom noticed the sinister look he cast at the others through his half-closed eyes. Was his subtle brain evolving another piece of villainy? The expression of his face seemed to say, "I am quite aware that you despise me, though you have no objection to share the roast ... but don't be too sure." He walked up to them, pointed to the water, and with a cynical grimace said a few words.Tom noiselessly opened the ventilator and distinctly heard Corman's answer:"And then? If they can't find it there, we are lost, that's all about it." He made a weary and deprecating gesture with his hands."But it is there," said Toroni, in a low voice. "Sixteen years ago I saw it disappearing in the sea on the very spot upon which we are standing to-day ... Why don't you say something? ... Why don't you laugh?" and once more he pointed to the dark, rolling waves. "Only ten fathoms from the prize," he whispered, "only ten fathoms from 'King Solomon' ... haven't you anything to say?"Dixon turned his back upon him in order to make an end of the matter, at the same time shouting to the diver:"Ready there? ... Look sharp about it."The diver went down the steps and into the water up to his waist; he hitched an electric lamp with brightly polished reflector on to his chest, and the helmet was screwed on over his head. The air-pump began to work with long, absorbent puffs, and the copper helmet gradually disappeared under the water, which bubbled up over it; the assistant paid out the coil and the rope with mechanical precision. Fifteen minutes passed, then the diver came up again on the steps. Toroni bent down to him, and Dixon and Corman also came forward; the diver opened the little glass pane in the helmet."The wreck is there all right; it has sunk a little lower, but there are no difficulties. The chests are all right in the saloon.""The fifteen, all told?" inquired Toroni."Yes, all of them, safe and uninjured."Toroni gave his friends a look, but no word passed between them. A windlass had been rigged up over the side of the barge, and the diver at once went back to the wreck, taking a supple steel wire with him.The group on the boat stood stiff and motionless in silent expectation; the men looked like coal-black shadows in the steady rays of the searchlight; it was pitch dark all round. Tom, sick with suspense, sought the back of a chair as support. Everything had gone so fast and in such a business-like manner that time after time he was forced to repeat to himself: "The gold is there, it is there."Again, in despair, he asked: "Where can Wallion be, what can prevent him from coming?"CHAPTER XXIIMADAME LORRAINE'S SURPRISEThere were suspicious movements in the saloon behind them, and Elaine uttered a cry. It was Madame Lorraine, but a greatly changed Madame Lorraine; her sea-green eyes shone with a peculiar emotion, and she looked at them both with an expression that made Tom hurriedly get up from his chair. She went close up to him and put a revolver into his hand."You are stout-hearted," she said in so low a voice that he could scarcely hear her. "Your friend says the time has come; take this, it is loaded ... I have always kept it by me as a last resource."He hardly understood her."What do you mean?" he said."Do not speak so loud," she answered. "It was I who slipped the card under your door, I have a surprise in store for you ... andthem," she added, in still more subdued tone. Through the ventilator she cast a look of intense hate upon the silent group outside.Then Tom grasped the fact that Madame Lorraine had deserted her associates and come over to the enemy! He remembered that her conduct throughout had often puzzled both Wallion and himself. Now she had come to a decision, driven thereto by the loathsome presence of Toroni. The cabin occupied by Madame Lorraine had been the only place not subjected to the rigorous search made for the "Problem Solver."With one bound Tom dashed through the half-open door into Madame Lorraine's cabin ... there, at the table, stood Maurice Wallion, in the act of loading a revolver."I am just coming," he said, looking over his shoulder and smiling. "You know, it was rather cute of you to let yourself be caught this morning," he added, coming out into the saloon. "You see, I had sent a few wireless messages to McTuft during the night, but obviously that could not go on much longer; and when that big raid was on I had the good luck to find Madame Lorraine alone here in the saloon, so I persuaded her to come to a noble and reasonable decision" (here he made a polite little bow). "Thanks for your hospitality, Madame, it will never be forgotten," he said. Then he shot a keen glance through the window and frowned."The time has come," he said abruptly, "they are much too busily engaged out there to suspect our plans.""What plans are those?""To take possession of the yacht."Tom was just as eager for action as his friend. "Yes," he said, almost breathless with excitement, "go on, you'll have me near you."They left the ladies in the saloon and hurriedly went out."Where is McTuft?" asked Tom."He is chasing us in the 'Albatross,' a patrol-boat; and, acting on my instructions, he will be here soon."Tom's confidence in Wallion rose many degrees at that piece of information. He had no doubt that they could have surprised the conspirators without assistance, but to deliver them up to the law was a more ticklish affair; for that purpose McTuft and his "boys" would prove very useful.They looked about them for a few minutes from the top of the gangway. On the larboard side lay the barge, well-lighted up by the rays of the searchlight, whilst all was dark and still on the yacht. The crew stood leaning over the railings, looking on with great interest; on the bridge near the wireless hut were Captain Hawkins and the pilot Weston. Tom accompanied Wallion along the dark deck to the bridge. Scattered lights from the wharf were reflected in the water, but there was no danger to be apprehended from that quarter."Moreland is in the wireless room," said Wallion. "When we get there you must go straight up to him and point your revolver at his head. I shall persuade the captain and pilot to go in there too; the rest I will take into my own hands."They stole up to the bridge like a couple of cats, only stopping occasionally to take breath.The well-lighted wireless room was just behind the chart-house; and immediately in front, on the other side of the steering-wheel, they saw the unmistakable silhouettes of Hawkins and Weston.The rhythmic suction of the air-pumps and the sharp creaking of the windlass could be heard far and wide in the stillness of the night."Now then, go ahead," said Wallion.Tom straightened himself and noiselessly entered the hut. Moreland looked up, and turned pale when he saw the revolver pointed at his head."Sit still," said Tom, in a commanding tone; "if you move I fire."The telegraphist sat as motionless as a stone image.Meanwhile Wallion crept up behind Hawkins and Western."Gentlemen," he said, "this is no time for talking; I shall fire without compunction, if necessary. Go to the wireless room at once in front of me."They obeyed with hands up, and he ordered them to sit down with their hands in front of them. Then he locked the door."Now for a little explanation," he said with a smile. "I regret having to act in this cavalier fashion, but I had to make you hear what I have to say, without raising an alarm; you take us for two bandits belonging to the Black Hand gang, don't you?""Mr. Dixon said so," retorted the captain sullenly."Very well, listen now; Mr. Dixon told a downright damned lie. My name is Maurice Wallion, and I am a detective from Sweden, and this gentleman" (pointing to Tom) "is my friend and assistant, Mr. Murner."Captain Hawkins stared distrustfully at him. "Anybody might say that," he growled."But I can swear that itisso.""In that case there should be no difficulty in proving your identity.""My own papers have been lost, and Murner's have been taken away from him."The captain shook his head. "Excuse me if I don't believe you; besides, what business could you have on board Mr. Dixon's yacht?""My business here is to arrest Ricardo Ferail for murder and theft, and Dixon and Corman for aiding and abetting," Wallion said very quietly.Captain Hawkins stared as if he had heard something perfectly impossible. "You're a good 'un," he said scornfully, "you can tell that tale to the marines.""Then you don't believe what I say?""I don't."Tom cast a troubled look at Wallion; it seemed to him the situation was becoming critical."It will afford me much pleasure to prove every word I have said, Captain Hawkins.""How are you going to do that? ... It would be rather amusing," was Hawkins' answer."It will be very simple: a few nautical miles from here is an American patrol-boat, the 'Albatross,' with Detective McTuft from Seattle on board. He knows me well, and is, like myself, on the track of the same delightful trio.""Oh," said the captain, with growing interest."What could be easier than to make an inquiry by wireless, requesting McTuft to prove our identity?"The captain rose, but immediately sat down again. "Not impossible," he said at last, "Moreland, call up the 'Albatross,' then we shall hear."Wallion exchanged a look of triumph with Tom, but their present position was rather hazardous all the same. The operator bent over his apparatus, whilst the others kept silent; he called up the 'Albatross,' and waited for an answer. It came at once:"Who wants 'Albatross'?""Maurice Wallion, on board the 'Ariadne,'" replied Moreland. "Ask McTuft if he will, please, come to the apparatus.""So far I have told you the truth, you see," remarked Wallion, while they were waiting for the reply. "I presume fire-arms will no longer be needed.""No," replied the Captain, curtly; "but I mean to get to the bottom of this," he said, adding: "if you have told the truth and anybody down there in the barge heard you, this room may prove a dangerous place for you.""There is no danger; the air-pump and windlass drown the wireless, and what is more, their attention is entirely taken up with those gold chests."Moreland made a sudden movement as the reply came: "McTuft is here, go ahead, 'Ariadne.'""Will you speak, Captain, or shall I?" said Wallion.He and Tom laid aside their arms as being no longer required. Captain Hawkins was deeply interested, and said:"Let me, please, Mr. Wallion." Then he proceeded to dictate his message to Moreland: "Request McTuft to furnish us with a description of Wallion."Moreland sent it off immediately, and after a scarcely perceptible delay a prompt answer came through space: "Maurice Wallion, detective from Sweden; tall, thin, eyes gray, complexion dark, hair brushed back from forehead; has Thomas Murner with him, do you want HIS description as well?"Whilst the captain was hesitating about the next inquiry to make, further signs of life arrived from McTuft; he asked: "What's the matter with Wallion? Anything gone wrong?""No, nothing," dictated Hawkins, gloomily; "only that he wants to impress upon the 'Ariadne's' company that certain proceedings are unavoidable; send information regarding his business on board the yacht for registration."The reply, a very emphatic one, came at once; one might have fancied it was in McTuft's own indignant tones: "It is Wallion's business to arrest every single soul on board the 'Ariadne,' if they make a fuss; first and foremost the owner and his party; will that do for you?""That's enough," said Hawkins, and laughed; then he added rather seriously: "I am quite convinced now, Mr. Wallion. It is an unsavory, horrible story, and my own plight is most deplorable; but, of course, I must bow to the law. What do you wish me to do?""That depends" ... said Wallion. He turned to Moreland and dictated as follows: "It is I, Wallion, speaking. Thanks for information, how long before the 'Albatross' will reach Hurricane Island?"Out of the darkness came McTuft's reply: "Thanks to you for information given last night; the 'Albatross' will be up in half-an-hour." There the odd conversation ended. Wallion got on to his feet and laughingly remarked to Tom:"I begin to appreciate McTuft's tenacity. He has no intention of missing the last act of the tragedy. I fancy I see him now on the 'Albatross.'"He put his head out of the window for a moment. The work on the barge below was being carried on undisturbed; the pumps moaned and the windlass creaked at regular intervals."Are the crew to be trusted?" asked Wallion."Yes, if I may have the handling of them," answered the captain.The pilot undertook to call the men in one by one and to explain the circumstances to them."Yes, that would perhaps be the best," Wallion agreed; "what is your opinion about the five men on the barge?""They belong to the wharf and they will give no trouble," said the captain. "I don't think any of the workmen on the wharf are particularly delighted with their employers.""First rate. I propose that you will call your men to the chart-room and tell them to be quiet; it is not necessary for them to interfere. Dixon and his two associates are armed, but we shall get the better of them before they have finished their business down there."All except Moreland left the cabin."Tom," said Wallion in a low voice, "in about ten minutes there will be a nice scuffle; you keep an eye on the barge whilst I help the captain to prepare the crew, and come up to the chart-room if any of our three friends make as though they meant to return to the yacht."Tom leant over the rails on the bridge and looked down into the barge; he felt that never again in all his life would he find himself in such company or such a situation as this. He was calm and resolute, and his gaze was firmly fixed on what lay before him.CHAPTER XXIIIGO SHARES ... THEN PARTThe rays of the searchlight fell upon the deck of the barge, on the rude planks of which a strange scene was being enacted, In the background lay Fir Island, like a dark side-piece, and the water in the channel rose and fell in glittering, heaving billows. On the stage, below where Tom stood, were eight performers all told.Dixon and Corman, in the center of the barge and still motionless, were smoking, and had lighted their cigarettes without exchanging a word; Toroni sat on the railing as close as possible to the spot where the ever-seething air bubbles in the water indicated the place where the diver was working on the wreck sixty feet below. Two men attended to the air-pumps, one looked after the tube and signal-rope, and two others stood ready by the stake, from which wire ropes hung down into the deep.But the picture had undergone a marvelous change since Tom had watched it from the loophole in the saloon. A collection of wooden cases of dark and curious appearance had been deposited on planks in a pool of muddy water. These cases were almost square and provided with thick iron bands; the offside of each showed letters carefully incised. Tom thought he could detect the name "Craig Russel" on one of the chests.... They contained gold from the ill-fated "King Solomon," which, after sixteen years, had at last come up from the bottom of the sea.He counted the chests and had got as far as ten when the man in charge of the signal-rope raised his hand; the two on duty at the stake rushed over the tackling to the edge of the boat, and half a minute later the eleventh chest was hauled up over the railing and placed by the side of the others; then the wire rope slackened.Toroni bent over this last chest and closely examined it on all sides. Like the others it was sound and uninjured; made of good, stout oak, the chests were in a wonderful state of preservation, though the wood had turned nearly black and the iron bands had been eaten away by rust and came off in bits. Apparently satisfied, Toroni returned to his post of observation in silence; his two companions had not stirred.The diver down on the wreck seemed working with a will, and ere long the twelfth case made its appearance. There were three more to come up, and Toroni and his accomplices had all but attained their object.There was something rather ghastly in the grim silence observed by these three, within reach of the coveted six millions they had agreed to share. What was it that so deeply engrossed their thoughts at this moment?Tom was inclined to believe that he could pretty well guess what was in Dixon's mind; he meant to have the gold conveyed to the big motor-boat from the wharf and to smuggle it over the frontier into Canada, before abandoning the "Ariadne" with Elaine, Tom, and the other intruders on board. There was every prospect of such a plan proving successful, provided nothing occurred to nip it in the bud, but ... did that plan fit in with Toroni's calculations?Tom narrowly scrutinized that little man's ill-favored countenance with its black beard, shifty eyes and pale brow; he appeared no longer to worry about Dixon or Corman, his eyes swept the water's which concealed "King Solomon."Chests thirteen and fourteen also were safely transferred to the barge; water flowed over the planks freely, and masses of seaweed were thrown up all around.Tom looked uneasily at the clock. Wallion had said ten minutes, but already twenty had elapsed. He turned his head; deliberations still seemed to be going on in the hut; he could distinguish the captain's broad back, Wallion's clear-cut profile and the pilot's anxious features; the last of the sailors had left and gone down. Tom turned his eyes to the deck; the crew had disappeared, but inquisitive eyes peered from the forecastle. The men were evidently prepared.All at once the door of the hut was pushed open, and Wallion came out, followed by Hawkins and Weston, pocketing their fire-arms.The windlass creaked for the fifteenth time ... the last remnant of "King Solomon's cargo was on its way up. Wallion looked down, his sharp features had assumed a hard, resolute expression."Just right," he said. "You, Mr. Weston, had better go down and keep an eye on the men and will you, Captain Hawkins, please remain on the bridge. You and I, Tom, will move a little nearer to our fellow-travelers down there."Noiselessly they climbed down to the "Ariadne's" lower deck, then made their way along under the bridge which brought them within five yards of Dixon and Corman, who were standing with their backs turned to the yacht, not suspecting anything. Toroni was just getting on his feet again after a minute inspection of the fifteenth and last chest, which stood dripping beside the others. The diver came up and climbed over the side of the barge; his helmet was unscrewed and the air-pump ceased working.All was quiet. Toroni turned to his two friends."None of them have been damaged," he said, in a voice which ended in a hoarse whisper. "Look sharp now, it's all done.... Let's get away with the stuff as fast as we can. Quick."Dixon sighed as if he were just waking from a bad dream. He threw away the stump of his cigarette, turned his head in the direction of the bridge and shouted: "Captain Hawkins, give the signal for the motor-boat to come here."The Captain neither moved nor spoke, but Wallion leveled his revolver."No signal is required, Dixon," he answered, "everything is arranged."Dixon and Corman swung round and stared Wallion full in the face.The Doctor muttered an oath and felt for his pocket. Wallion and Tom looked at him fixedly, and the former said:"Don't add another to the list of your crimes; that would be foolish."Dixon's lips had assumed an ashen hue, and he had evidently to make a tremendous effort to stand steady."Oho, so it was you, Mr. Wallion," he said with some bitterness in his tone. "Well, I give in, I have got into deep water. Corman, my boy, it wasn't written in the stars that this was the way we were to get rich...." Then, looking at Wallion, he said: "And what do you intend to do with us?""You are my prisoner, Dixon, and you too, Corman. Go shares and then dissolve partnership, that was your program, wasn't it? Well, the six millions will be shared, but not with you, and the partnership will be dissolved, though not quite in the way you intended."Toroni, whom Wallion had kept well under observation, stood as if glued to the spot, his piercing black eyes fixed on the "Problem Solver."The five bargemen and the diver were huddled together in a frightened heap. Toroni looked round."Don't expect you'll get any help," said Wallion sternly. "Come here, Toroni.... What? ... You would? ... Look out, Tom."Quick as lightning Toroni had taken refuge behind the gold chests, pulled out his revolver and fired; the bullet made a hole in the wall of the hut. Wallion stooped and took aim, but he could not sight his adversary. Tom caught a glimpse of Toroni's right hand as he again raised his weapon between two of the chests and fired at random without any particular aim. A flash and a bang followed; Tom felt something like the sting of a whip on his left temple. He put up his hand; his fingers were wet and smeared with blood. He let fall his Browning and believed he heard himself call out: "I am wounded"; but in reality no sound passed his lips. He took a few steps without knowing where he was going, staggered and fell forward unconscious.Toroni had dropped on his knees. He was grinning and showing his teeth like a wild beast. Under cover of the gold chests, he shot time after time at Wallion, who promptly returned the fire, and knew he had not missed his mark, but Toroni seemed possessed of an evil spirit."Give in," shouted Wallion. "I want to take you alive."Toroni rose to his full height and threw away his weapon; he had fired his last shot. In his eyes there was the look of an untamed tiger.... Furious anger at the loss of what he thought already safe within his sordid grasp, lust of the millions upon which his thoughts had centered through sixteen years, had obliterated every trait of humanity."Never," he said huskily; he took a step forward.... A long, sharp knife gleamed in his hand as he raised it towards Wallion. At the same instant Madame Lorraine's voice was heard:"You devil! It was you who dragged us down to perdition."She had come to the railing of the yacht and picked up Tom's revolver. She looked as if she were intent on fulfilling a long neglected duty. She fired.... Toroni dropped the knife and reeled backwards, his failing eyes still sought the gold chests, then he folded his hands upon his breast, turned, staggered against the side of the barge, and blindly stretching out his arms, fell into the water. As his body sank, great bubbles rose to the turbid surface; the thirteenth passenger of the "King Solomon" had returned to where the gold had lain which lured him to his fate. Madame Lorraine silently retired to her cabin.Dixon and Corman had looked on at the short but unforgettable scene with indifference and apathy. Their parts were played and they had neither the power nor the will to offer any resistance to the law.Weston and two of the sailors went on board the barge and conveyed the two friends to the upper deck of the "Ariadne." They moved listlessly, like automatons, and Dixon sank wearily into one of the basket-chairs. He buried his head in his hands and, looking up at Wallion's approach, said feebly:"I suppose jail will be our next destination, Mr. Wallion?"The latter nodded and said nothing. He rather pitied Dixon, whose gray and crestfallen features had aged in a few days by ten years.Doctor Corman stood behind him, stoical and resigned, with folded arms. "Ah, well," he muttered. "Toroni came off best after all."By Wallion's orders Tom had been carried down into the saloon. The young man had only a flesh-wound, and that a slight one, on one of his temples; but the shock had stunned him and he was still unconscious.As soon as Wallion had satisfied himself that his friend was not in danger, he returned to the upper deck. He had heard distant signals across the water. The lights of a steamer soon became visible in the channel. She was approaching at full speed. It was the "Albatross," with McTuft on board, his red hair blowing round his head like flames of fire."Hallo, Wallion," lie cried, "are things all right, or have I come too late?""You have come in the nick of time," was Wallion's answer, "to take these fifteen chests, which contain gold, on board the 'Albatross,' and set the police seal on them. There you see Mr. Dixon and Doctor Corman; it is now your duty to arrest them. We shall remain on the 'Ariadne' with Captain Hawkins to take us back to Seattle. That's all, I think....""But what about Ferail?""Ferail, otherwise No. 13 Toroni, is dead."McTuft cast a long inquiring look at Wallion."If only you were a Scotchman now proud I should be of you," he said.CHAPTER XXIVAFTER THE CONFLICT
"Situation promising. Hold yourself in readiness. Our day is coming.—M.W."
"Situation promising. Hold yourself in readiness. Our day is coming.—M.W."
Tom ran to the door and shook it, but there was no sound. He gently whispered Wallion's name; there was no response, but in a second or two the steward came up and asked from the outside:
"Did you require anything more, sir?"
"No, thank you, nothing," answered Tom. He flung himself down on the bed. Those few words on the card had been like refreshing wine to him. The blood mounted to his head, and his nerves tingled, but he was at a loss—turn or twist the words as he might—to account for such a message. Wallion's audacity, too, almost frightened him. How was all this to end?
Certain signs indicated that the "Ariadne" was approaching her journey's end, and Tom began to get fidgety. For safety's sake he tore the card to bits, which he threw out of a porthole. In the east, land could be discerned, and the boat, still at top speed, passed a number of islands, sometimes nearer, sometimes further away, gray and red, with dabs of dark woods.
Lunch was served at two o'clock, but Tom's appetite was gone.
"Shall we soon be there?" he asked.
"In about another hour," replied the steward civilly, but he beat a hasty retreat to avoid any further inquiries.
An hour went by. Tom walked restlessly up and down in his tiny cabin. Then bit by bit a high mountain ridge came in sight about a thousand yards away, and a little later, when the yacht had slackened speed, a steep arid coast in some parts covered with tall firs, and then a wide valley with lighter foliage in the background. The engines stopped, and the yacht anchored about a hundred yards from a dilapidated wooden pier. The "Ariadne" had reached her goal.
So this was Hurricane Island, and over there the "Black Valley"? On the left Tom noticed a jumble of sheds and chimneys.
The wharf mentioned was a very simple affair, there was no work going on, but a score of men came out on the quay, from mere curiosity. At some distance down the valley could be seen a skeleton swing-bridge, leading into a dark hole on the mountain side; this was the deserted copper mine; but, save for this reminder of bygone industry, the surrounding country was desolate.
A large motor boat came out from the quay, and when it got alongside the "Ariadne" Tom noticed at the wheel a man who might have been the foreman of the wharf. He had evidently come to welcome his employers. The boat slipped round to the bow of the yacht and the Captain shouted from the bridge:
"Mr. Dixon is engaged, but lay to and come on board."
There was a high sea and the yacht rocked considerably. Things began to be very lively on deck and Tom wondered what was going on.
The steward came in hurriedly to remove the luncheon tray, and Tom had a shock.
This time the man had left the door unlocked! Tom listened, thinking he might come back. In the direction of the stairs, he heard Dixon's voice in sharp altercation with the Doctor.
"It is impossible," he was saying; "it can't be done now, the sea is too rough. We shall have to wait an hour or two."
"In an hour or two it may be too late," the Doctor replied.
"I don't think so. Besides it takes time to fix upon the exact place...."
"Well, and what about this Swede's friend whom we couldn't catch?"
"Haven't we thoroughly searched every nook and cranny? There wasn't a spot as big as a dollar left for any one to hide in. He isn't here, Corman. The wireless has given out, that is the solution of..." Their voices died away and they went up on deck.
Tom strained every nerve, trying to impress upon his memory the things he had heard; he conquered his desire to rush out, for Wallion's instructions had only been "keep himself in readiness." And Wallion was at liberty, probably with a deep scheme in his mind. Trembling with excitement he muttered, "Let us hope it won't be long ... if only I knew."
The yacht tugged at her cables, and Fir Island presently came in view. It was smaller and more wooded than Hurricane Island, and looked as if the foot of man had never trodden there.
The "Ariadne" lay about midway in the long and broad channel, through which the waters flowed freely, and there was still a high sea running, though the storm had abated; the clouds were heavy and twilight was falling. The motor boat was towing a low, flat-bottomed barge, laden with a variety of mysterious implements, towards some point which Tom was unable to see. Immediately afterwards the yacht again weighed anchor and slowly proceeded in the same direction, stopped after backing a little, and again dropped anchor. Then feeble strokes became audible on the larboard side; the yacht was clearly alongside the barge.
A thought shot through Tom's brain. They were surely lying immediately over the wreck of the "King Solomon." He felt he could no longer remain idle; in some way or another he must be doing. He opened the door and went into the corridor; the road was clear. Without any attempt to conceal his movements he walked straight into the saloon, where the lamps were already lighted, and there, by the table, with her back to the door, stood Elaine. Tom stopped short, but she had already heard him and now turned round. Her large, dark eyes sparkled, and a smile hovered round her trembling lips. She was grave yet excited.
"You?" she cried. "You?"
"Yes," he replied, taking her hands, "and you can't turn me out now," he added, half in jest. "We are still fellow-travelers, as you see, but it seems ages since I last talked to you."
Without withdrawing her soft hands from his she continued: "How dared you come on board the yacht?"
"You were the magnet, Elaine."
She blushed slightly, and her smile vanished; she looked furtively round.
"You ought not to have come..."
"Does my society bore you so much?"
"No, oh no, I am glad; you have done far too much for me already, I can never..."
"I do so want to be near you and be able to help you," he said, "if only you will tell me what I can do."
"No, you can't help me."
"It is true that I am but a sorry knight."
"I don't mean that, but don't you see, can't you understand, that it is too late? ..."
She pointed towards the table on which lay a number of sea-charts and drawings; the two wooden dolls had been carelessly thrown down among them.
"They have done their worst and we are entirely in their hands." Something in her tone made him lean towards her; her eyes burned with excitement and deep despair.
"Elaine," he asked impulsively, "you know all?"
"I do," she replied. "Oh, the scoundrels ... they deceived me, enticed me with lies ... my poor father ... Oh, Tom, it is too late..."
Almost unconsciously she had called him by his Christian name; tears rose to her eyes and she leant her head against his shoulder.
"What an idyllic scene!" said an ironical voice at the door. "I am afraid we are disturbing them, Dixon."
It was Doctor Corman and Dixon; on the threshold they stood still, an expression of scornful triumph on their faces.
"So we enticed you with lying words, Elaine?" said Corman mockingly. "What do you intend to do then, eh?"
"Shut up," said Tom, clenching his fists.
Corman pretended to be greatly surprised.
"So you have been pleased to leave your cabin, Mr. Murner? Oh, well, it is of no consequence."
Elaine had pulled herself together; the sight of the two men seemed to have put new vigor into her.
"Oh, yes, I know all about you, who choose a murderer for your friend and are worse than a thief yourself," she cried, in a loud, clear voice. "I overheard your conversation last night and am glad to be able to tell you the truth at last. Worse, yes, worse than a thief; compared withyoua thief is an honest man, you who rob widows and orphans, plunder the dead and commit murder for the sake of gold. I see everything clearly now; I hope the truth will scorch your soul when you think of what you have done—you liar, you devil."
Corman's face twitched, and Dixon turned very white. After Elaine's accusing words there was a dead silence, till with a forced laugh Dixon said, rather hoarsely:
"Well, Miss Robertson, maybe you are right, only you have told us the truth just two months too late, and you can't stop us now..."
He looked around, but not at her. After some hesitation he passed in front of her and gathered up the papers from the table, looking at them with a covert smile.
"You see, my dear young lady, there are things in our miserable lives that you can't understand," he said.
Then he left the saloon in silence, and Corman went with him.
CHAPTER XXI
TEN FATHOMS FROM THE GOAL
The wooden dolls still lay on the table, and as if in a dream, Tom noticed for the first time four other wooden figures on a shelf in the wall. A small marble clock on the same shelf gave forth six shrill, harsh strokes.
Elaine had sunk down on a seat on the larboard of the yacht, trembling nervously after her recent outbreak. Tom took a chair by her side; he wanted to say something to comfort her, but could not think of anything.
"Don't say anything," she whispered with a nervous little smile which ended in a shiver. "I am not going to be hysterical...."
Their attention was diverted by a noise and a light outside the window; they looked out, and saw that the barge had been towed alongside the yacht. Darkness lay over the sea, which had become much less turbulent. The searchlight turned obliquely on the long, low deck of the barge and its milk-white rays shone upon a curious spectacle. Preparations for hauling up 'King Solomon's' golden cargo were in full swing. A grotesque and clumsy gray figure, its feet weighted with lead, was walking along the planks; it was the diver. An assistant held the copper helmet in readiness, the breathing-tube was coiled round his body and a third man was looking after the air-pump. On the deck stood Dixon, Corman, and Toroni—the two former smoking in gloomy silence; the young girl's words must surely have burnt themselves into their consciences and embittered their hour of triumph.
Toroni, on the other hand, was watching the work with apathetic curiosity, self-centered, awaiting the result of the plot he had engineered with violence and cunning twelve months before; the hour when his hands should close on the coveted six millions. Did he really intend his two accomplices to have a share in the booty? Tom noticed the sinister look he cast at the others through his half-closed eyes. Was his subtle brain evolving another piece of villainy? The expression of his face seemed to say, "I am quite aware that you despise me, though you have no objection to share the roast ... but don't be too sure." He walked up to them, pointed to the water, and with a cynical grimace said a few words.
Tom noiselessly opened the ventilator and distinctly heard Corman's answer:
"And then? If they can't find it there, we are lost, that's all about it." He made a weary and deprecating gesture with his hands.
"But it is there," said Toroni, in a low voice. "Sixteen years ago I saw it disappearing in the sea on the very spot upon which we are standing to-day ... Why don't you say something? ... Why don't you laugh?" and once more he pointed to the dark, rolling waves. "Only ten fathoms from the prize," he whispered, "only ten fathoms from 'King Solomon' ... haven't you anything to say?"
Dixon turned his back upon him in order to make an end of the matter, at the same time shouting to the diver:
"Ready there? ... Look sharp about it."
The diver went down the steps and into the water up to his waist; he hitched an electric lamp with brightly polished reflector on to his chest, and the helmet was screwed on over his head. The air-pump began to work with long, absorbent puffs, and the copper helmet gradually disappeared under the water, which bubbled up over it; the assistant paid out the coil and the rope with mechanical precision. Fifteen minutes passed, then the diver came up again on the steps. Toroni bent down to him, and Dixon and Corman also came forward; the diver opened the little glass pane in the helmet.
"The wreck is there all right; it has sunk a little lower, but there are no difficulties. The chests are all right in the saloon."
"The fifteen, all told?" inquired Toroni.
"Yes, all of them, safe and uninjured."
Toroni gave his friends a look, but no word passed between them. A windlass had been rigged up over the side of the barge, and the diver at once went back to the wreck, taking a supple steel wire with him.
The group on the boat stood stiff and motionless in silent expectation; the men looked like coal-black shadows in the steady rays of the searchlight; it was pitch dark all round. Tom, sick with suspense, sought the back of a chair as support. Everything had gone so fast and in such a business-like manner that time after time he was forced to repeat to himself: "The gold is there, it is there."
Again, in despair, he asked: "Where can Wallion be, what can prevent him from coming?"
CHAPTER XXII
MADAME LORRAINE'S SURPRISE
There were suspicious movements in the saloon behind them, and Elaine uttered a cry. It was Madame Lorraine, but a greatly changed Madame Lorraine; her sea-green eyes shone with a peculiar emotion, and she looked at them both with an expression that made Tom hurriedly get up from his chair. She went close up to him and put a revolver into his hand.
"You are stout-hearted," she said in so low a voice that he could scarcely hear her. "Your friend says the time has come; take this, it is loaded ... I have always kept it by me as a last resource."
He hardly understood her.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Do not speak so loud," she answered. "It was I who slipped the card under your door, I have a surprise in store for you ... andthem," she added, in still more subdued tone. Through the ventilator she cast a look of intense hate upon the silent group outside.
Then Tom grasped the fact that Madame Lorraine had deserted her associates and come over to the enemy! He remembered that her conduct throughout had often puzzled both Wallion and himself. Now she had come to a decision, driven thereto by the loathsome presence of Toroni. The cabin occupied by Madame Lorraine had been the only place not subjected to the rigorous search made for the "Problem Solver."
With one bound Tom dashed through the half-open door into Madame Lorraine's cabin ... there, at the table, stood Maurice Wallion, in the act of loading a revolver.
"I am just coming," he said, looking over his shoulder and smiling. "You know, it was rather cute of you to let yourself be caught this morning," he added, coming out into the saloon. "You see, I had sent a few wireless messages to McTuft during the night, but obviously that could not go on much longer; and when that big raid was on I had the good luck to find Madame Lorraine alone here in the saloon, so I persuaded her to come to a noble and reasonable decision" (here he made a polite little bow). "Thanks for your hospitality, Madame, it will never be forgotten," he said. Then he shot a keen glance through the window and frowned.
"The time has come," he said abruptly, "they are much too busily engaged out there to suspect our plans."
"What plans are those?"
"To take possession of the yacht."
Tom was just as eager for action as his friend. "Yes," he said, almost breathless with excitement, "go on, you'll have me near you."
They left the ladies in the saloon and hurriedly went out.
"Where is McTuft?" asked Tom.
"He is chasing us in the 'Albatross,' a patrol-boat; and, acting on my instructions, he will be here soon."
Tom's confidence in Wallion rose many degrees at that piece of information. He had no doubt that they could have surprised the conspirators without assistance, but to deliver them up to the law was a more ticklish affair; for that purpose McTuft and his "boys" would prove very useful.
They looked about them for a few minutes from the top of the gangway. On the larboard side lay the barge, well-lighted up by the rays of the searchlight, whilst all was dark and still on the yacht. The crew stood leaning over the railings, looking on with great interest; on the bridge near the wireless hut were Captain Hawkins and the pilot Weston. Tom accompanied Wallion along the dark deck to the bridge. Scattered lights from the wharf were reflected in the water, but there was no danger to be apprehended from that quarter.
"Moreland is in the wireless room," said Wallion. "When we get there you must go straight up to him and point your revolver at his head. I shall persuade the captain and pilot to go in there too; the rest I will take into my own hands."
They stole up to the bridge like a couple of cats, only stopping occasionally to take breath.
The well-lighted wireless room was just behind the chart-house; and immediately in front, on the other side of the steering-wheel, they saw the unmistakable silhouettes of Hawkins and Weston.
The rhythmic suction of the air-pumps and the sharp creaking of the windlass could be heard far and wide in the stillness of the night.
"Now then, go ahead," said Wallion.
Tom straightened himself and noiselessly entered the hut. Moreland looked up, and turned pale when he saw the revolver pointed at his head.
"Sit still," said Tom, in a commanding tone; "if you move I fire."
The telegraphist sat as motionless as a stone image.
Meanwhile Wallion crept up behind Hawkins and Western.
"Gentlemen," he said, "this is no time for talking; I shall fire without compunction, if necessary. Go to the wireless room at once in front of me."
They obeyed with hands up, and he ordered them to sit down with their hands in front of them. Then he locked the door.
"Now for a little explanation," he said with a smile. "I regret having to act in this cavalier fashion, but I had to make you hear what I have to say, without raising an alarm; you take us for two bandits belonging to the Black Hand gang, don't you?"
"Mr. Dixon said so," retorted the captain sullenly.
"Very well, listen now; Mr. Dixon told a downright damned lie. My name is Maurice Wallion, and I am a detective from Sweden, and this gentleman" (pointing to Tom) "is my friend and assistant, Mr. Murner."
Captain Hawkins stared distrustfully at him. "Anybody might say that," he growled.
"But I can swear that itisso."
"In that case there should be no difficulty in proving your identity."
"My own papers have been lost, and Murner's have been taken away from him."
The captain shook his head. "Excuse me if I don't believe you; besides, what business could you have on board Mr. Dixon's yacht?"
"My business here is to arrest Ricardo Ferail for murder and theft, and Dixon and Corman for aiding and abetting," Wallion said very quietly.
Captain Hawkins stared as if he had heard something perfectly impossible. "You're a good 'un," he said scornfully, "you can tell that tale to the marines."
"Then you don't believe what I say?"
"I don't."
Tom cast a troubled look at Wallion; it seemed to him the situation was becoming critical.
"It will afford me much pleasure to prove every word I have said, Captain Hawkins."
"How are you going to do that? ... It would be rather amusing," was Hawkins' answer.
"It will be very simple: a few nautical miles from here is an American patrol-boat, the 'Albatross,' with Detective McTuft from Seattle on board. He knows me well, and is, like myself, on the track of the same delightful trio."
"Oh," said the captain, with growing interest.
"What could be easier than to make an inquiry by wireless, requesting McTuft to prove our identity?"
The captain rose, but immediately sat down again. "Not impossible," he said at last, "Moreland, call up the 'Albatross,' then we shall hear."
Wallion exchanged a look of triumph with Tom, but their present position was rather hazardous all the same. The operator bent over his apparatus, whilst the others kept silent; he called up the 'Albatross,' and waited for an answer. It came at once:
"Who wants 'Albatross'?"
"Maurice Wallion, on board the 'Ariadne,'" replied Moreland. "Ask McTuft if he will, please, come to the apparatus."
"So far I have told you the truth, you see," remarked Wallion, while they were waiting for the reply. "I presume fire-arms will no longer be needed."
"No," replied the Captain, curtly; "but I mean to get to the bottom of this," he said, adding: "if you have told the truth and anybody down there in the barge heard you, this room may prove a dangerous place for you."
"There is no danger; the air-pump and windlass drown the wireless, and what is more, their attention is entirely taken up with those gold chests."
Moreland made a sudden movement as the reply came: "McTuft is here, go ahead, 'Ariadne.'"
"Will you speak, Captain, or shall I?" said Wallion.
He and Tom laid aside their arms as being no longer required. Captain Hawkins was deeply interested, and said:
"Let me, please, Mr. Wallion." Then he proceeded to dictate his message to Moreland: "Request McTuft to furnish us with a description of Wallion."
Moreland sent it off immediately, and after a scarcely perceptible delay a prompt answer came through space: "Maurice Wallion, detective from Sweden; tall, thin, eyes gray, complexion dark, hair brushed back from forehead; has Thomas Murner with him, do you want HIS description as well?"
Whilst the captain was hesitating about the next inquiry to make, further signs of life arrived from McTuft; he asked: "What's the matter with Wallion? Anything gone wrong?"
"No, nothing," dictated Hawkins, gloomily; "only that he wants to impress upon the 'Ariadne's' company that certain proceedings are unavoidable; send information regarding his business on board the yacht for registration."
The reply, a very emphatic one, came at once; one might have fancied it was in McTuft's own indignant tones: "It is Wallion's business to arrest every single soul on board the 'Ariadne,' if they make a fuss; first and foremost the owner and his party; will that do for you?"
"That's enough," said Hawkins, and laughed; then he added rather seriously: "I am quite convinced now, Mr. Wallion. It is an unsavory, horrible story, and my own plight is most deplorable; but, of course, I must bow to the law. What do you wish me to do?"
"That depends" ... said Wallion. He turned to Moreland and dictated as follows: "It is I, Wallion, speaking. Thanks for information, how long before the 'Albatross' will reach Hurricane Island?"
Out of the darkness came McTuft's reply: "Thanks to you for information given last night; the 'Albatross' will be up in half-an-hour." There the odd conversation ended. Wallion got on to his feet and laughingly remarked to Tom:
"I begin to appreciate McTuft's tenacity. He has no intention of missing the last act of the tragedy. I fancy I see him now on the 'Albatross.'"
He put his head out of the window for a moment. The work on the barge below was being carried on undisturbed; the pumps moaned and the windlass creaked at regular intervals.
"Are the crew to be trusted?" asked Wallion.
"Yes, if I may have the handling of them," answered the captain.
The pilot undertook to call the men in one by one and to explain the circumstances to them.
"Yes, that would perhaps be the best," Wallion agreed; "what is your opinion about the five men on the barge?"
"They belong to the wharf and they will give no trouble," said the captain. "I don't think any of the workmen on the wharf are particularly delighted with their employers."
"First rate. I propose that you will call your men to the chart-room and tell them to be quiet; it is not necessary for them to interfere. Dixon and his two associates are armed, but we shall get the better of them before they have finished their business down there."
All except Moreland left the cabin.
"Tom," said Wallion in a low voice, "in about ten minutes there will be a nice scuffle; you keep an eye on the barge whilst I help the captain to prepare the crew, and come up to the chart-room if any of our three friends make as though they meant to return to the yacht."
Tom leant over the rails on the bridge and looked down into the barge; he felt that never again in all his life would he find himself in such company or such a situation as this. He was calm and resolute, and his gaze was firmly fixed on what lay before him.
CHAPTER XXIII
GO SHARES ... THEN PART
The rays of the searchlight fell upon the deck of the barge, on the rude planks of which a strange scene was being enacted, In the background lay Fir Island, like a dark side-piece, and the water in the channel rose and fell in glittering, heaving billows. On the stage, below where Tom stood, were eight performers all told.
Dixon and Corman, in the center of the barge and still motionless, were smoking, and had lighted their cigarettes without exchanging a word; Toroni sat on the railing as close as possible to the spot where the ever-seething air bubbles in the water indicated the place where the diver was working on the wreck sixty feet below. Two men attended to the air-pumps, one looked after the tube and signal-rope, and two others stood ready by the stake, from which wire ropes hung down into the deep.
But the picture had undergone a marvelous change since Tom had watched it from the loophole in the saloon. A collection of wooden cases of dark and curious appearance had been deposited on planks in a pool of muddy water. These cases were almost square and provided with thick iron bands; the offside of each showed letters carefully incised. Tom thought he could detect the name "Craig Russel" on one of the chests.... They contained gold from the ill-fated "King Solomon," which, after sixteen years, had at last come up from the bottom of the sea.
He counted the chests and had got as far as ten when the man in charge of the signal-rope raised his hand; the two on duty at the stake rushed over the tackling to the edge of the boat, and half a minute later the eleventh chest was hauled up over the railing and placed by the side of the others; then the wire rope slackened.
Toroni bent over this last chest and closely examined it on all sides. Like the others it was sound and uninjured; made of good, stout oak, the chests were in a wonderful state of preservation, though the wood had turned nearly black and the iron bands had been eaten away by rust and came off in bits. Apparently satisfied, Toroni returned to his post of observation in silence; his two companions had not stirred.
The diver down on the wreck seemed working with a will, and ere long the twelfth case made its appearance. There were three more to come up, and Toroni and his accomplices had all but attained their object.
There was something rather ghastly in the grim silence observed by these three, within reach of the coveted six millions they had agreed to share. What was it that so deeply engrossed their thoughts at this moment?
Tom was inclined to believe that he could pretty well guess what was in Dixon's mind; he meant to have the gold conveyed to the big motor-boat from the wharf and to smuggle it over the frontier into Canada, before abandoning the "Ariadne" with Elaine, Tom, and the other intruders on board. There was every prospect of such a plan proving successful, provided nothing occurred to nip it in the bud, but ... did that plan fit in with Toroni's calculations?
Tom narrowly scrutinized that little man's ill-favored countenance with its black beard, shifty eyes and pale brow; he appeared no longer to worry about Dixon or Corman, his eyes swept the water's which concealed "King Solomon."
Chests thirteen and fourteen also were safely transferred to the barge; water flowed over the planks freely, and masses of seaweed were thrown up all around.
Tom looked uneasily at the clock. Wallion had said ten minutes, but already twenty had elapsed. He turned his head; deliberations still seemed to be going on in the hut; he could distinguish the captain's broad back, Wallion's clear-cut profile and the pilot's anxious features; the last of the sailors had left and gone down. Tom turned his eyes to the deck; the crew had disappeared, but inquisitive eyes peered from the forecastle. The men were evidently prepared.
All at once the door of the hut was pushed open, and Wallion came out, followed by Hawkins and Weston, pocketing their fire-arms.
The windlass creaked for the fifteenth time ... the last remnant of "King Solomon's cargo was on its way up. Wallion looked down, his sharp features had assumed a hard, resolute expression.
"Just right," he said. "You, Mr. Weston, had better go down and keep an eye on the men and will you, Captain Hawkins, please remain on the bridge. You and I, Tom, will move a little nearer to our fellow-travelers down there."
Noiselessly they climbed down to the "Ariadne's" lower deck, then made their way along under the bridge which brought them within five yards of Dixon and Corman, who were standing with their backs turned to the yacht, not suspecting anything. Toroni was just getting on his feet again after a minute inspection of the fifteenth and last chest, which stood dripping beside the others. The diver came up and climbed over the side of the barge; his helmet was unscrewed and the air-pump ceased working.
All was quiet. Toroni turned to his two friends.
"None of them have been damaged," he said, in a voice which ended in a hoarse whisper. "Look sharp now, it's all done.... Let's get away with the stuff as fast as we can. Quick."
Dixon sighed as if he were just waking from a bad dream. He threw away the stump of his cigarette, turned his head in the direction of the bridge and shouted: "Captain Hawkins, give the signal for the motor-boat to come here."
The Captain neither moved nor spoke, but Wallion leveled his revolver.
"No signal is required, Dixon," he answered, "everything is arranged."
Dixon and Corman swung round and stared Wallion full in the face.
The Doctor muttered an oath and felt for his pocket. Wallion and Tom looked at him fixedly, and the former said:
"Don't add another to the list of your crimes; that would be foolish."
Dixon's lips had assumed an ashen hue, and he had evidently to make a tremendous effort to stand steady.
"Oho, so it was you, Mr. Wallion," he said with some bitterness in his tone. "Well, I give in, I have got into deep water. Corman, my boy, it wasn't written in the stars that this was the way we were to get rich...." Then, looking at Wallion, he said: "And what do you intend to do with us?"
"You are my prisoner, Dixon, and you too, Corman. Go shares and then dissolve partnership, that was your program, wasn't it? Well, the six millions will be shared, but not with you, and the partnership will be dissolved, though not quite in the way you intended."
Toroni, whom Wallion had kept well under observation, stood as if glued to the spot, his piercing black eyes fixed on the "Problem Solver."
The five bargemen and the diver were huddled together in a frightened heap. Toroni looked round.
"Don't expect you'll get any help," said Wallion sternly. "Come here, Toroni.... What? ... You would? ... Look out, Tom."
Quick as lightning Toroni had taken refuge behind the gold chests, pulled out his revolver and fired; the bullet made a hole in the wall of the hut. Wallion stooped and took aim, but he could not sight his adversary. Tom caught a glimpse of Toroni's right hand as he again raised his weapon between two of the chests and fired at random without any particular aim. A flash and a bang followed; Tom felt something like the sting of a whip on his left temple. He put up his hand; his fingers were wet and smeared with blood. He let fall his Browning and believed he heard himself call out: "I am wounded"; but in reality no sound passed his lips. He took a few steps without knowing where he was going, staggered and fell forward unconscious.
Toroni had dropped on his knees. He was grinning and showing his teeth like a wild beast. Under cover of the gold chests, he shot time after time at Wallion, who promptly returned the fire, and knew he had not missed his mark, but Toroni seemed possessed of an evil spirit.
"Give in," shouted Wallion. "I want to take you alive."
Toroni rose to his full height and threw away his weapon; he had fired his last shot. In his eyes there was the look of an untamed tiger.... Furious anger at the loss of what he thought already safe within his sordid grasp, lust of the millions upon which his thoughts had centered through sixteen years, had obliterated every trait of humanity.
"Never," he said huskily; he took a step forward.... A long, sharp knife gleamed in his hand as he raised it towards Wallion. At the same instant Madame Lorraine's voice was heard:
"You devil! It was you who dragged us down to perdition."
She had come to the railing of the yacht and picked up Tom's revolver. She looked as if she were intent on fulfilling a long neglected duty. She fired.... Toroni dropped the knife and reeled backwards, his failing eyes still sought the gold chests, then he folded his hands upon his breast, turned, staggered against the side of the barge, and blindly stretching out his arms, fell into the water. As his body sank, great bubbles rose to the turbid surface; the thirteenth passenger of the "King Solomon" had returned to where the gold had lain which lured him to his fate. Madame Lorraine silently retired to her cabin.
Dixon and Corman had looked on at the short but unforgettable scene with indifference and apathy. Their parts were played and they had neither the power nor the will to offer any resistance to the law.
Weston and two of the sailors went on board the barge and conveyed the two friends to the upper deck of the "Ariadne." They moved listlessly, like automatons, and Dixon sank wearily into one of the basket-chairs. He buried his head in his hands and, looking up at Wallion's approach, said feebly:
"I suppose jail will be our next destination, Mr. Wallion?"
The latter nodded and said nothing. He rather pitied Dixon, whose gray and crestfallen features had aged in a few days by ten years.
Doctor Corman stood behind him, stoical and resigned, with folded arms. "Ah, well," he muttered. "Toroni came off best after all."
By Wallion's orders Tom had been carried down into the saloon. The young man had only a flesh-wound, and that a slight one, on one of his temples; but the shock had stunned him and he was still unconscious.
As soon as Wallion had satisfied himself that his friend was not in danger, he returned to the upper deck. He had heard distant signals across the water. The lights of a steamer soon became visible in the channel. She was approaching at full speed. It was the "Albatross," with McTuft on board, his red hair blowing round his head like flames of fire.
"Hallo, Wallion," lie cried, "are things all right, or have I come too late?"
"You have come in the nick of time," was Wallion's answer, "to take these fifteen chests, which contain gold, on board the 'Albatross,' and set the police seal on them. There you see Mr. Dixon and Doctor Corman; it is now your duty to arrest them. We shall remain on the 'Ariadne' with Captain Hawkins to take us back to Seattle. That's all, I think...."
"But what about Ferail?"
"Ferail, otherwise No. 13 Toroni, is dead."
McTuft cast a long inquiring look at Wallion.
"If only you were a Scotchman now proud I should be of you," he said.
CHAPTER XXIV
AFTER THE CONFLICT