Together we pulled the unfortunate fellow from under the table, and as we looked at his dripping head we exchanged glances, and I do not know which was the paler of the two.

“The same as the Spanish sailor,” said I.

“The very same.  God preserve us!  It’s that infernal chest!  Look at Armstrong’s hand!”

He held up the mate’s right hand, and there was the screwdriver which he had wished to use the night before.

“He’s been at the chest, sir.  He knew that I was on deck and you were asleep.  He knelt down in front of it, and he pushed the lock back with that tool.  Then something happened to him, and he cried out so that you heard him.”

“Allardyce,” I whispered, “what could have happened to him?”

The second mate put his hand upon my sleeve and drew me into his cabin.

“We can talk here, sir, and we don’t know who may be listening to us in there.  What do you suppose is in that box, Captain Barclay?”

“I give you my word, Allardyce, that I have no idea.”

“Well, I can only find one theory which will fit all the facts.  Look at the size of the box.  Look at all the carving and metal-work which may conceal any number of holes.  Look at the weight of it; it took four men to carry it.  On top of that, remember that two men have tried to open it, and both have come to their end through it.  Now, sir, what can it mean except one thing?”

“You mean there is a man in it?”

“Of course there is a man in it.  You know how it is in these South American States, sir.  A man may be president one week and hunted like a dog the next—­they are for ever flying for their lives.  My idea is that there is some fellow in hiding there, who is armed and desperate, and who will fight to the death before he is taken.”

“But his food and drink?”

“It’s a roomy chest, sir, and he may have some provisions stowed away.  As to his drink, he had a friend among the crew upon the brig who saw that he had what he needed.”

“You think, then, that the label asking people not to open the box was simply written in his interest?”

“Yes, sir, that is my idea.  Have you any other way of explaining the facts?”

I had to confess that I had not.

“The question is what we are to do?” I asked.

“The man’s a dangerous ruffian, who sticks at nothing.  I’m thinking it wouldn’t be a bad thing to put a rope round the chest and tow it alongside for half an hour; then we could open it at our ease.  Or if we just tied the box up and kept him from getting any water maybe that would do as well.  Or the carpenter could put a coat of varnish over it and stop all the blow-holes.”

“Come, Allardyce,” said I, angrily.  “You don’t seriously mean to say that a whole ship’s company are going to be terrorised by a single man in a box.  If he’s there, I’ll engage to fetch him out!” I went to my room and came back with my revolver in my hand.  “Now, Allardyce,” said I, “do you open the lock, and I’ll stand on guard.”