But he persisted:  “No!  I must tell it now.  First, however, did either of you discover an old coin in any of my pockets—­an old Spanish doubloon?”

“That doubloon again!” Norine lifted her hands protestingly, and cast a meaning look at O’Reilly.  “You talked about nothing else for a whole week.  Let me feel your pulse.”

Esteban surrendered his hand with suspicious readiness.

“You were flat broke when we got you,” O’Reilly declared.

“Probably.  I seem to remember that somebody stole it.”

“Doubloons!  Pieces of eight!  Golden guineas!” exclaimed Norine.  “Why those are pirate coins!  They remind me of Treasure Island; of Long John Silver and his wooden leg; of Ben Gunn and all the rest.”  With a voice made hoarse, doubtless to imitate the old nut-brown seaman with the saber-scar and the tarry pig-tail, who sat sipping his rum and water in the Admiral Benbow Inn, she began to chant: 

  “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—­
       Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! 
   Drink and the Devil had done for the rest—­
       Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”

Esteban smiled uncomprehendingly.  “Yes?  Well, this has to do with treasure.  That doubloon was a part of the lost treasure of the Varonas.”

“Lost treasure!” Norine’s gray eyes widened.  “What are you talking about?”

“There is a mysterious fortune in our family.  My father buried it.  He was very rich, you know, and he was afraid of the Spaniards.  O’Reilly knows the story.”

Johnnie assented with a grunt.  “Sure!  I know all about it.”

Esteban raised himself to his elbow.  “You think it’s a myth, a joke.  Well, it’s not.  I know where it is.  I found it!”

Norine gasped; Johnnie spoke soothingly: 

“Don’t get excited, old man; you’ve talked too much to-day.”

“Ha!” Esteban fell back upon his pillow.  “I haven’t any fever.  I’m as sane as ever I was.  That treasure exists, and that doubloon gave me the clue to its whereabouts.  Pancho Cueto knew my father, and he believed the story.  He believed in it so strongly that—­ well—­that’s why he denounced my sister and me as traitors.  He dug up our entire premises, but he didn’t find it.”  Esteban chuckled.  “Don Esteban, my father, was cunning:  he could hide things better than a magpie.  It remained for me to discover his trick.”

Norine Evans spoke breathlessly.  “Oh, glory!  Treasure!  Real treasure!  How perfectly exciting!  Tell me how you found it, quick!  Johnnie, you remember he raved about a doubloon—­”

“He is raving now,” O’Reilly declared, with a sharp stare at his friend.

The girl turned loyally to her patient.  “I’ll believe you, Mr. Varona.  I always believe everything about buried treasure.  The bigger the treasure the more implicitly I believe in it.  I simply adore pirates and such things; if I were a man I’d be one.  Do you know, I’ve always been tempted to bury my money and then go look for it.”