II.
The day broke in a sulky grey, and there lay the Nicobar, in ten fathoms, not a mile from the shore, her topmasts forlornly visible above the boisterous water. The sea was rough all that day, but the snow had ceased, and during the night the weather calmed considerably. Next day Lloyd’s agent was steaming about in a launch from Plymouth, and soon a salvage company’s tug came up and lay to by the emerging masts. There was every chance of raising the ship as far as could be seen, and a diver went down from the salvage tug to measure the breach made in the Nicobar’s side, in order that the necessary oak planking or sheeting might be got ready for covering the hole, preparatory to pumping and raising. This was done in a very short time, and the necessary telegrams having been sent, the tug remained in its place through the night, and prepared for the sending down of several divers on the morrow to get out the bullion as a commencement.
Just at this time Martin Hewitt happened to be engaged on a case of some importance and delicacy on behalf of Lloyd’s Committee, and was staying for a few days at Plymouth. He heard the story of the wreck, of course, and speaking casually with Lloyd’s agent as to the salvage work just beginning, he was told the name of the salvage company’s representative on the tug, Mr. Percy Merrick — a name he immediately recognised as that of an old acquaintance of his own. So that on the day when the divers were at work in the bullion-room of the sunken Nicobar, Hewitt gave himself a holiday, and went aboard the tug about noon.
Here he found Merrick, a big, pleasant man of thirty-eight or so. He was very glad to see Hewitt, but was a great deal puzzled as to the results of the morning’s work on the wreck. Two cases of gold bars were missing.
“There was £200,000 worth of bullion on board,” he said, “that’s plain and certain. It was packed in forty cases, each of £5,000 value. But now there are only thirty-eight cases! Two are gone clearly. I wonder what’s happened?”
“I suppose your men don’t know anything about it?” asked Hewitt.
“No, they’re all right. You see, it’s impossible for them to bring anything up without its being observed, especially as they have to be unscrewed from their diving-dresses here on deck. Besides, bless you, I was down with them.”
“Oh! Do you dive yourself, then?”
“Well, I put the dress on sometimes, you know, for any such special occasion as this. I went down this morning. There was no difficulty in getting about on the vessel below, and I found the keys of the bullion-room just where the captain said I would, in his cabin. But the locks were useless, of course, after being a couple of days in salt water. So we just burgled the door with crowbars, and then we saw that we might have done it a bit more easily from outside. For that coasting-steamer cut clean into the bunker next the bullion-room, and ripped open the sheet of boiler-plate dividing them.”
“The two missing cases couldn’t have dropped out that way, of course?”
“Oh, no. We looked, of course, but it would have been impossible. The vessel has a list the other way — to starboard — and the piled cases didn’t reach as high as the torn part. Well, as I said, we burgled the door, and there they were, thirty-eight sealed bullion cases, neither more nor less, and they’re down below in the after-cabin at this moment. Come and see.”
Thirty-eight they were; pine cases bound with hoop-iron and sealed at every joint, each case about eighteen inches by a foot, and six inches deep. They were corded together, two and two, apparently for convenience of transport.”
“Did you cord them like this yourself?” asked Hewitt.
“No, that’s how we found ’em. We just hooked ’em on a block and tackle, the pair at a time, and they hauled ’em up here aboard the tug.”
“What have you done about the missing two — anything?”
“Wired off to headquarters, of course, at once. And I’ve sent for Captain Mackrie — he’s still in the neighbourhood, I believe — and Brasyer, the second officer, who had charge of the bullion-room. They may possibly know something. Anyway, one thing’s plain. There were forty cases at the beginning of the voyage, and now there are only thirty-eight.”
There was a pause; and then Merrick added, “By the bye, Hewitt, this is rather your line, isn’t it? You ought to look up these two cases.”
Hewitt laughed. “All right,” he said; “I’ll begin this minute if you’ll commission me.”
“Well,” Merrick replied slowly, “of course I can’t do that without authority from headquarters. But if you’ve nothing to do for an hour or so there is no harm in putting on your considering cap, is there? Although, of course, there’s nothing to go upon as yet. But you might listen to what Mackrie and Brasyer have to say. Of course I don’t know, but as it’s a £Io,000 question probably it might pay you, and if you do see your way to anything I’d wire and get you Commissioned at once.”
There was a tap at the door and Captain Mackrie entered. “Mr. Merrick?” he said interrogatively, looking from one to another.
“That’s myself, sir,” answered Merrick.
“I’m Captain Mackrie, of the Nicobar. You sent for me, I believe. Something wrong with the bullion I’m told, isn’t it? ”
Merrick explained matters fully. “I thought perhaps you might be able to help us, Captain Mackrie. Perhaps I have been wrongly informed as to the number of cases that should have been there?”
“No; there were forty right enough. I think though — perhaps I might be able to give you a sort of hint “— and Captain Mackrie looked hard at Hewitt.
“This is Mr. Hewitt, Captain Mackrie,” Merrick interposed. “You may speak as freely as you please before him. In fact, he’s sort of working on the business, so to speak.”
“Well,” Mackrie said, “if that’s so, speaking between ourselves, I should advise you to turn your attention to Brasyer. He was my second officer, you know, and had charge of the stuff.”
“Do you mean,” Hewitt asked, “that Mr. Brasyer might give us some useful information?”
Mackrie gave an ugly grin. “Very likely he might,” he said, “if he were fool enough. But I don’t think you’d get much out of him direct. I meant you might watch him.”
“What, do you suppose he was concerned in any way with the disappearance of this gold?”
“I should think — speaking, as I said before, in confidence and between ourselves — that it’s very likely indeed. I didn’t like his manner all through the voyage.”
“Why?”
“Well, he was so eternally cracking on about his responsibility, and pretending to suspect the stokers and the carpenter, and one person and another, of trying to get at the bullion cases — that that alone was almost enough to make one suspicious. He protested so much, you see. He was so conscientious and diligent himself, and all the rest of it, and everybody else was such a desperate thief, and he was so sure there would be some of that bullion missing some day that — that — well, I don’t know if I express his manner clearly, but I tell you I didn’t like it a bit. But there was something more than that. He was eternally smelling about the place, and peeping in at the steward’s
