We had been so intent watching from the deck the all too slow approach of the little power-boat from the trawler that we had paid no attention to what was on our other quarter.

“A tug approaching, sir,” reported the man on watch to Everson.  “Seems to be heading for us, sir.”

We turned to look.  Who was she, friend or foe?  We knew not what to expect.  Everson, pale but with a firm grip on his nerves, did not move from the deck as the power-boat came alongside, and Dominick, Gage, and Kinsale swung themselves up the ladder to us.

“It’s the tug of that pilot, Guiteras, sir,” interposed the man who had spoken before.  Not a word was spoken, though I fancied that a quiet smile flitted over Kennedy’s face as we waited.

The tug ranged up alongside us.  To my utter astonishment, I saw Dolores, her black eyes eagerly scanning our faces.  Was she looking for Gage, I wondered?  It was only a moment when the party that had put out from the tug also came tumbling aboard.

“I got your message, Kennedy, and brought Guiteras.  He wouldn’t join the expedition, but he thought more of his daughter than of anything else.”

It was Kenmore, who had at last achieved his wish to get on the treasure-hunt story.  Everson looked inquiringly at Craig.

“Message?” repeated Kennedy.  “I sent no message.”

It was Kenmore’s turn to stare.  Had some one hoaxed him into a wild-goose chase, after all?

“Nothing?  About Dolores being deserted, and—­”

“He shall marry my daughter!” boomed a gruff voice as Guiteras shouldered his way through the little group, his hand shooting back to a pocket where bulged a huge Colt.

Like a flash Kennedy, who had been watching, caught his wrist.  “Just a second, Captain,” he shouted, then turned to us, speaking rapidly and excitedly.  “This thing has all been carefully, diabolically laid out.  All who stood in the way of the whole of the treasure were to be eliminated.  One person has sought to get it all—­at any cost.”

In Craig’s own hand now gleamed a deadly automatic while with the other he held Guiteras’s wrist.

“But,” he added, tensely, “an insane passion has wrecked the desperate scheme.  A woman has been playing a part—­leading the man on to his own destruction in order to save the man she really loves.”

I looked over at Norma.  She was pale and agitated, then burning and nervous by turns.  It was only by a most heroic effort that she seemed able to restrain herself, her eyes riveted on Kennedy’s face, weighing every word to see whether it balanced with a feeling in her own heart.

“The Antilles,” shot out Kennedy, suddenly, “was burned and sunk, not by accident, but with a purpose.  That purpose has run through all the events I have seen—­the use of Mr. Everson, his yacht, his money, his influence.  Come!” He strode down the passage to our state-room, and we followed in awed silence.