Sure enough, in a moment Glass’s eyelids fluttered a little, and he came back to life with an audible catch of the breath.

“In two minutes’ time, sir”—­the Doctor turned to Captain Branscome—­“I shall be glad of your services, and of Mr. Goodfellow’s, to carry the fellow down to the boat—­that is to say, if, in deference to the ladies, you have really decided not to leave him here to his fate.  He will sleep after this; nay, if you will listen, he is sleeping already.  The other man is dead, I suppose?”

“He must have died instantly,” answered Captain Branscome, who had stepped across to the body to assure himself.

“I had no doubt of it, by the way he dropped.  Well, there is no need to fetch a spade.  Their thoughtfulness provided one.  You will find it in the boat there.”

Half an hour later we embarked, leaving behind us on the beach a scuttled boat, a mound of sand, and a chest of false jewellery, over the top of which the rising tide had already begun to lap.

Aaron Glass lay along the bottom boards, asleep and breathing apoplectically.  I pulled the stroke paddle, Mr. Goodfellow the bow, and the Captain steered.  Dr. Beauregard addressed himself to the ladies, of whom Miss Belcher sat with a corrugated brow, as though turning a thought over and over in her mind, and Plinny with scared eyes, staring into vacancy.

“I am sorry, indeed, ladies,” said the Doctor, “that I could not have spared you this.  The fool shot his mate—­you saw it yourselves—­ without rhyme or reason.  Against madness, and the impulses of madness, no man can calculate.  I might plead, too, that in an undertaking like this you match yourselves against forces with which it is not given to ladies to cope.  I grant admiringly the courage that brought you across thousands of miles to Mortallone, as I grant, and again admiringly, the steadiness of your behaviour this afternoon.  But one thing you did not know—­that in the nature of things you were bound to meet with such men and see such things done.  I have not lived beside treasure all these years without learning that it attracts such men as carrion attracts the vultures.  Hide it where you will, from the end of the earth some bird of prey will spy it out, or at least some scent of it will lie and draw such prowlers as this fellow.”  Dr. Beauregard touched the sleeping man contemptuously with the toe of his boot.  “I myself have been—­shall we say?—­fortunate.  I have emptied, or assisted to empty, two caches of treasure in this island.  A third remains, of which you have the secret, and I believe it to be the richest of all.  But before you attempt it, I have a mind to tell you something of the other two, that at least you may not attempt it unwarned.”

“You may spare yourself the pains, sir,” said Miss Belcher, decisively; “since our minds are made up.  You might, I doubt not, succeed in frightening us; but since you will not deter us, I suggest that the less we hear the better.”