“Naturally,” said the captain, smiling; “but, then, you see I did.”

Mr. Tredgold drummed with his fingers on the arms of his chair, and after a little hesitation asked as a great favour to be permitted to see the map.  As an estate agent, he said, he took a professional interest in plans of all kinds.

Captain Bowers rose, and in the midst of an expectant silence took the map from the bureau, and placing it on the table kept it down with his fist.  The others drew near and inspected it.

[Illustration:  “The others drew near and inspected it.”]

“Nobody but Captain Bowers has ever seen the other side,” said Mr. Chalk, impressively.

“Except my niece,” interposed the captain.  “She wanted to see it, and I trust her as I would trust myself.  She thinks the same as I do about it.”

His stubby forefinger travelled slowly round the coast-line until, coming to the extreme south-west corner, it stopped, and a mischievous smile creased his beard.

“It’s buried here,” he observed.  “All you’ve got to do is to find the island and dig in that spot.”

Mr. Chalk laughed and shook his head as at a choice piece of waggishness.

“Suppose,” said Mr. Tredgold, slowly—­“suppose anybody found it without your connivance, would you take your share?”

“Let’em find it first,” said the captain.

“Yes, but would you?” inquired Mr. Chalk.

Captain Bowers took up the map and returned it to its place in the bureau.  “You go and find it,” he said, with a genial smile.

“You give us permission?” demanded Tredgold.

“Certainly,” grinned the captain.  “I give you permission to go and dig over all the islands in the Pacific; there’s a goodish number of them, and it’s a fairly common shape.”

“It seems to me it’s nobody’s property,” said Tredgold, slowly.  “That is to say, it’s anybody’s that finds it.  It isn’t your property, Captain Bowers?  You lay no claim to it?”

“No, no,” said the captain.  “It’s nothing to do with me.  You go and find it,” he repeated, with enjoyment.

Mr. Tredgold laughed too, and his eye travelled mechanically towards the bureau.  “If we do,” he said, cordially, “you shall have your share.”

The captain thanked him and, taking up the bottle, refilled their glasses.  Then, catching the dull, brooding eye of Mr. Stobell as that plain-spoken man sat in a brown study trying to separate the serious from the jocular, he drank success to their search.  He was about to give vent to further pleasantries when he was stopped by the mysterious behaviour of Mr. Chalk, who, first laying a finger on his lip to ensure silence, frowned severely and nodded at the door leading to the kitchen.

The other three looked in the direction indicated.  The door stood half open, and the silhouette of a young woman in a large hat put the upper panels in shadow.  The captain rose and, with a vigorous thrust of his foot, closed the door with a bang.