ome, and starin' from one to the other of 'em,
for Mr. Ellins scowls and clears his throat menacin'.

"Well?" he growls.

"I was just lettin' it sink in, sir," says I.

"Humph!" he snorts. "If it will help the process any, I may say that I
am considering the possibility of going on a cruise South with Captain
Killam--for my health."

At which Old Hickory drops his left eyelid and indulges in what passes
with him for a chuckle.

That's my cue to grin knowin', after which I gets my hat and starts off
with Rupert. We'd only got into the corridor when Old Hickory calls me
hack, wavin' a twenty.

"Pay for two days in advance," says he, and then adds in a whisper:
"Keep close track of him. See that he doesn't get away, or talk too
much."

"Yes, sir," says I. "Gag and bind, if necessary."

But there don't seem to be much need of even warnin' Rupert. He hardly
opens his mouth on the way up to the hotel, but trails along silent,
his eyes fixed starey, like he was thinkin' deep.

"Well," says I, after a bell-hop had shown us into one of the
Tillington's air-shaft rooms and gone for ten cents' worth of ice
water, "it looks like you had the Big Boss almost buffaloed with that
pirate tale of yours."

Rupert don't enthuse much at that.

"As a cautious business man," says he, "I suppose Mr. Ellins is quite
right in moving slowly. He wants to see the jewelry, and he wishes
time to investigate. Still, it seems to me that my story ought to
speak for itself."

"That's the line," says I. "Stick to that. But I wouldn't chatter
about it to strangers."

Rupert smiles indulgent.

"Thank you," says he. "You need not fear. I have kept my secret for
three years--and I still hold it."

He's a dramatic cuss, Rupert. I leaves him posin' in front of the
mirror on the bathroom door, gazin' sort of romantic at himself.

"Not a common, everyday nut," as I explains to Vee that night, when I
goes up for my reg'lar Wednesday evenin' call, "but a nut, all the
same. Sort of a parlor pirate, too."

"And you think there isn't any buried treasure, after all?" asks Vee.

"Don't it sound simple?" I demands.

"I'm not so sure," says Vee, shakin' her head. "There were pirates on
the Florida coast, you know. I've read about them. And--and just
fancy, Torchy! If his story were really true!"

"What was the name of that island, again?" puts in Auntie.

Honest, I hadn't thought she was takin' notice at all when I was givin'