Miss Browne whirled upon him.  In her cold eye a spark had kindled.  And suddenly I had a new vision of her.  I saw her no longer as the deluder of Aunt Jane, but as herself the deluded.  Her belief in the treasure was an obsession.  This map was her talisman, her way of escape from an existence which had been drab and dull enough, I dare say.

“Mr. Shaw, we are given not one, but several infallible landmarks.  The cave has two mouths, it can be approached by sea, it is IN the immediate neighborhood of the grave of William Halliwell, which is to be recognized by its headstone.  As the area of our search is circumscribed by the narrow limits of this island, I fail to see what further marks of identification can be required.”

“A grave ninety years old and hidden beneath a tropical jungle is not an easy thing to find, Miss Browne.  As to caves, I doubt but they are numerous.  The formation here makes it more than likely.  And there’ll be more than one with two mouths, I’m thinking.”

“Mr. Shaw”—­Miss Browne gave the effect of drawing herself up in line of battle—­“I feel that I must give expression to the thought which comes to me at this moment.  It is this—­that if the members of this party are to be chilled by carping doubts, the wave of enthusiasm which has floated us thus far must inevitably recede, leaving us flotsam on a barren shore.  What can one weak woman—­pardon, my unfaltering Jane!—­two women, achieve against the thought of failure firmly held by him to whom, we looked to lead us boldly in our forward dash?  Mr. Shaw, this is no time for crawling earthworm tactics.  It is with the bold and sweeping glance of the eagle that we must survey this island, until, the proper point discerned, we swoop with majestic flight upon our predestined goal!”

Miss Browne was somewhat exhausted by this effort, and paused for breath, whereupon Mr. Tubbs, anxious to retrieve his recent blunder, seized with dexterity this opportunity.

“I get you.  Miss Browne, I get you,” said Mr. Tubbs with conviction.  “Victory ain’t within the grasp of any individual that carries a heart like a cold pancake in his bosom.  What this party needs is pep, and if them that was calculated on to supply it don’t, why there’s others which is not given to blowin’ their own horn, but which might at a pinch dash forward like Arnold—­no relation to Benedict—­among the spears.  I may be rather a man or thought than action, ma’am, and at present far from my native heath, which is the financial centers of the country, but if I remember right it was Ulysses done the dome-work for the Greeks, while certain persons that was depended on sulked in their tents.  Miss Higglesby-Browne, you can count—­count, I say—­on old H. H.!”

“I thank you, Mr. Tubbs, I thank you!” replied Miss Browne with emotion.  As for Aunt Jane, she gazed upon the noble countenance of Mr. Tubbs with such ecstatic admiration that her little nose quivered like a guinea-pig’s.