Captain Killam again. Then the whole thing hit me on the funnybone.
Haw-haw! Auntie, the sober old girl with the mixed-pickle disposition,
suddenly comin' to life and pinchin' Old Hickory's find while he's
tryin' to make up his mind whether it's phony or not. Auntie, of all
people! More hearty haw-haws.

When I finally does drift into Old Hickory's private office and he
motions me to shut the door, I'm still registerin' merry thoughts.

"Well?" says he, snappin' it out crisp.

"You'd never guess," says I, smotherin' a chuckle.

"Eh?" says he, shootin' a puzzled glance at me from under them
overhangin' eyebrows of his. "Who wants to guess? What about Captain
Killam?"

"That's just it," says I. "He's flitted."

"Wha-a-at!" snorts Old Hickory. "You don't mean he has gone?"

"Uh-huh!" says I. "Been lured away. But say,"--here I indulges in my
most comic open-face movement,--"who do you suppose did the trick on
us?"

Old Hickory stares at me and waves his cigar impatient. "Go on," he
growls.

"You know Miss Vee's aunt," says I, "Mrs. Cornelia Hemmingway? Well,
she's got him. Yep! Just naturally kidnapped him, I expect. I had my
suspicions of her the minute I found the Captain was gone. So I chases
right up there. She's out. The maid admits she went away with a party
answerin' Killam's description. I wouldn't have been sure, though, if
I hadn't found a map of Florida on the lib'ry table and Nunca Secos Key
marked on it. Now, what do you know about that? Auntie! Ain't that
rich?"

No hilarity from Old Hickory--not even one of them cracked concrete
smiles of his. He just sits there glarin' at me, missin' the comedy
cue altogether.

"Young man," says he, "just a moment before we get any further off the
track. How did Mrs. Hemmingway happen to learn about Captain Killam?"

"Why," says I, "she had her ear out while, I was tellin' Miss Vee.
Would you believe, though, that an old girl like her--"

"I would," says he. "Humorous as it may seem to you, I should credit
almost anyone with wanting to dig up several million dollars, if they
could find where it was hidden."

"But--" I begins.

"Besides Miss Verona and her aunt," goes on Old Hickory, "how many
others have you made acquainted with what I was doing my best to keep a
secret?"

"Not a soul," says I. "Honest!"

"Temporary paralysis of the tongue, eh?" he asks. "It's a wonder you
didn't have it published in the morning papers. Qui