Tredgold, with a sharp exclamation, snatched a somewhat torn coat and
waistcoat. From the former he drew out a bulky pocketbook, and, opening
it with trembling fingers, hastily inspected the contents.
"The map has gone!" he shouted.
The others stared at him.
"Brisket has gone off with the ship," he continued, with desperate
calmness. "It was the crew of our own schooner that frightened us off
last night."
Mr. Stobell, still staring in a stony fashion, nodded slowly; Mr. Chalk
after an effort found his voice.
"They've gone off with the treasure," he said, slowly.
"Also," continued Tredgold, "this is not Bowers's Island. I can see it
all now. They've only taken the map, and now they're off to the real
island to get the treasure. It's as clear as daylight."
"Broad daylight," said Stobell, huskily. "But how did they know?"
"Somebody has been talking," said Tredgold, in a hard voice. "Somebody
has been confiding in that honest, open-hearted sailor, Captain Brisket."
He turned as he spoke and gazed fixedly at the open-mouthed Chalk. In a
slower fashion, but with no less venom, Mr. Stobell also bent his regards
upon that amiable but erring man.
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