"Thanks," answered Calamity. "I told you I had something in store for the old rascal."
"Yes; I don't think you're likely to gaze on his benevolent smile again, Abott."
"Then there's a story going round that you're a lord or a dook or something of that sort."
"Don't take any notice of it," answered Calamity; "you'll hear a good deal worse than that when rumour's got well under way. And now to business."
"The stuff's down at my old shack, and, as it'll be dark in a few minutes, I thought we might as well toddle over there."
Calamity agreed, and, leaving the house, they proceeded at a rapid walk till the outskirts of the village were reached. By this time it was dark, and Abott, taking an electric torch from his pocket, led the way along a narrow foot-track till they reached the sea-shore.
"Here we are," he said, throwing a gleam of light on a tumble-down hut about fifty yards from the water's edge. "I'll go first."
He unlocked the door, a crazy affair that a good push would have brought down completely, and led the way in. With the aid of the torch he found an old lantern with a piece of candle in it, and, after lighting this, set it on an upturned barrel.
"There we are," he remarked; "'tain't much of a light, but it'll do to talk by."
In the yellow glimmer it was just possible to make out a number of cases and sacks piled in a corner with lumber of various sorts, such as empty water-beakers, odd spars, rusty anchors, and so forth.
"Looks as if it were worth about half a dollar the lot, doesn't it, instead of somewheres around two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" remarked the pilot as he seated himself on a water-beaker. "And to think," he went on musingly, "that I pull fifty thousand out of it. What for?"
"For playing the game," answered Calamity gravely, and, taking a handful of cheroots from his pocket, he offered them to the other.
Abott took one, opened the door of the lantern, and they both lit up.
"Now," said the pilot, exhaling huge clouds of pungent smoke, "we'd better fix matters up. This isn't the sort of stuff you can tuck under your arm, walk into a bank with, and ask for it to be placed to the credit of your account. No, sir, questions might be asked, seeing that bar gold and promiscuous jewellery ain't common currency even in this country. And, I take it, if the Admiralty knew about it, they'd want to confiscate a tidy lump as treasure trove, or whatever it's called."