I replied coldly. "Was it to tell me this that you have put me in debt to you for this call?"
"Hardly. To be frank, I came to get a map."
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Again?"
"As you say, again."
"Quite like old times, isn't it? I am reminded of our 'Frisco Nights' Entertainment. The search for a map in other people's apartments is becoming rather a habit with you, isn't it?"
"I'm a persistent beggar," he admitted.
"I regret we have no more copies to lend."
He laughed indulgently.
"Touché, monsieur. But I don't care for copies. I am a collector of originals."
"They are said to be expensive."
"But valuable."
"Still, the cost is a consideration."
"Not when some one else pays the shot, Mr. Sedgwick."
"I see. You expect those poor devils whom you are misleading to draw the chestnut out of the fire for you."
"Exactly," he admitted with the gayest aplomb.
"You are willing that they should pay to the limit?" I asked, curious to see how far his cynical audacity would carry him.
He shrugged, with a lift of his strong hands.
"That is as luck, or fate, or Providence—whichever you believe in, Mr. Sedgwick—deals out the cards. I'm not a god, you know."
"You know that you cannot follow the course outlined without lives being lost," I persisted.
"I'll take your word for it," he flung back lightly.
"That won't deter you in the least?"
"Wasn't it Napoleon who said one couldn't make an omelet without breaking eggs?"
"And yet his omelet was not a success," I reflected aloud.
"Whose is, Mr. Sedgwick? We all have our Waterloos. Love, ambition, the search for wealth—none of them satisfy. But though none of us find happiness we yet seek. That is human nature."
I shot a question at him abruptly.
"Suppose you got all this treasure—would you keep faith with those poor, deluded ruffians and share with them?"
His hardy smile approved me.
"You're deep, my friend. Now I wonder what I would do? My tools are deluded. Wealth could not bring them the happiness they think it would. Most of them it would ruin. I fear it would be my duty to——"
"—— let them hold the sack," I finished for him.
"Precisely."
"There is, then, no honor among thieves."
"Not a bit. No more than there is among gentlemen. But since you object to having eggs broken, I offer you an alternative."
I waited.
"In order to save eggs I'll ask you to turn over to me the map."
"Where do you think I keep it? You've already searched my rooms and my person. I'm no wizard."
His black eyes bored into mine.
"We've been over this ground once before, Mr. Sedgwick. You know me. I'm here for business."
"So I judge."
"Come! This won't do. I'm a determined man. That map I'm going to have. Unless you want the scene to close with the final exit of John Sedgwick, find for me the map."
"Suppose I tell you that I haven't it?"
"I shall believe you, since the evidence would support the assertion. I should then ask who has it?"
"You certainly are a man of one idea. I think I've never had the pleasure of talking with you that you didn't switch the conversation back to that map."
He raised the revolver.
"I asked a question."
There was a step outside, followed by a knock on the door. "Come in," I sang out instantly.
Bothwell's furious gaze came back from the door just as I leaped. A bullet crashed through the skylight, for my arm had deflected his. I wrapped myself about him in silent struggle for the weapon. We swayed against the bed and went down upon it hard, our weight tearing through the springs. Desperately I clung to his arm to keep the weapon from pointing at me.
"Let go, Sedgwick," a voice ordered.
Sinewy fingers had tightened on Bothwell's throat and a strong hand had wrenched the revolver from him.
Panting, I struggled to my feet. My opportune friend covered the Russian with his own weapon and drawled out a warning.
"Don't you now, Mr. Pirate, or I'll certainly have to load you up with lead."
Bothwell lay on the bed, his breast heaving from his exertions. In no man's looks have I ever seen a more furious malice, but he had sense enough to recognize that this was our moment.
"If it ain't butting in, what were you gentlemen milling around so active about this warm day?" asked Yeager.
"Same old point of difference. Captain Bothwell wanted a map."
Tom laughed gently.
"Sho! You hadn't ought to be so blamed urgent, cap. It don't buy you anything."
The Russian struggled with his rage, fought it down, and again found his ironic smile.
"I am under the impression that it would have bought me a map if it had not been for your arrival, sir."
"Too bad I spoiled yore game, then."
"For the present," amended the defeated man. "I am a person of much resource, Mr. Sedgwick will tell you." Then, with a glance at the bit of plaster on my head: "He still wears a souvenir to remind him of it."
"My little adventure at San Pedro. I always, credited you with that, captain. Thanks."
"You're entirely welcome. More to follow," he smiled.
"What are you allowing to do with your guest, Sedgwick?" asked Yeager.
"We'll leave that to Blythe. I suppose we had better put him in irons and guard him. We can drop him off at Panama."
"Any port in a time of storm," suggested our prisoner blithely.
"Personally, I'd like to see you marooned for a few months," I growled, for the man's insolence ruffled me.
I
