As to the entrance to the tunnel, it was apparent to me that Mr. Tubbs had not yet discovered it.  Even if he had, I am certain that he would have been no more heroic than myself about exploring it, though there was no missing Peter to haunt his imagination.  But with the grave as a starting-point, there could be no question as to the ultimate discovery of the cave.

I was so eager myself to see the inside of the cave, and to know whatever it had to reveal of the fate of Peter, that I was inclined to wish Mr. Tubbs success in driving his hard bargain, especially as it would profit him nothing in the end.  But this sentiment was exclusively my own.  On all hands indignation greeted the rigorous demands of Mr. Tubbs.  With a righteous joy, I saw the fabric of Aunt Jane’s illusions shaken by the rude blast of reality.  Would it be riven quite in twain?  I was dubious, for Aunt Jane’s illusions have a toughness in striking contrast to the uncertain nature of her ideas in general.  Darker and darker disclosures of Mr. Tubbs’s perfidy would be required.  But judging from his present recklessness, they would be forthcoming.  For where was the Tubbs of yesterday—­the honey-tongued, the suave, the anxiously obsequious Tubbs?  Gone, quite gone.  Instead, here was a Tubbs who cocked his helmet rakishly, and leered round upon the company, deaf to the claims of loyalty, the pleas of friendship, the voice of tenderness—­Aunt Jane’s.

Manfully Miss Higglesby-Browne stormed up and down the beach.  She demanded of Mr. Shaw, of Cuthbert Vane, of Captain Magnus, each and severally, that Mr. Tubbs be compelled to disgorge his secret.  You saw that she would not have shrunk from a regimen of racks and thumbscrews.  But there were no racks or thumbscrews on the island.  Of course we could have invented various instruments of torture—­I felt I could have developed some ingenuity that way myself—­but too fatally well Mr. Tubbs knew the civilized prejudices of those with whom he had to deal.  With perfect impunity he could strut about the camp, sure that no weapons worse than words would be brought to bear upon him, that he would not even be turned away from the general board to browse on cocoanuts in solitude.

Long ago Mr. Shaw had left the field to Violet and with a curt shrug had turned his back and stood looking out over the cove, stroking his chin reflectively.  Miss Browne’s eloquence had risen to amazing flights, and she already had Mr. Tubbs inextricably mixed with.  Ananias and Sapphira, when the Scotchman broke in upon her ruthlessly.

“Friends,” he said, “so far as I can see we have been put a good bit ahead by this morning’s work.  First, we know that the grave which should be our landmark has not been entirely obliterated by the jungle, as I had thought most likely.  Second, we know that it is on this side of the island, for the reason that this chap Tubbs hasn’t nerve to go much beyond shouting distance by himself.