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SPEED, as Jim Maitland had said, was the vital thing. He had not the heart to try and dissuade Judy Draycott from coming: nor, as he frankly admitted to himself, had he the ability to. But she was going to complicate things. With her as a member of the party, it was essential to avoid a scrap, if it was humanly possible. And as he saw the thing a scrap would inevitably occur as soon as the other people landed on the island, when they would immediately discover that their map was wrong. Therefore it followed that if gun work was to be avoided they must be away before Dresler and his gang got there.

To Bill Blackett's fanciful monsters he attached no importance whatever. He knew sailors and their stories of old: moreover the Paquinetta mystery had taken place twenty-four years ago. And in a quarter of a century things grow in the imagination. What was worrying him, and what continued to worry him all the way across to Rio was how long it was going to take them to find the spot where, according to the map, the stuff was buried. It was easy to mark the spot on the map itself—he had already done so and marked it B. But the difficulty was going to be to find that place on the ground. According to Bill Blackett it was right in the middle of the forest, so how were they going to get their compass bearings? Had the place been open country the thing would have been easy. All that would have been necessary would have been to walk along the line from A to C till a point was reached where the hill lay north-east. But in dense forest the matter became much more difficult. And his fear was that it might take a considerable time before they marked it down, and even then they would have to allow for it being only approximately accurate. He felt that a week at least would be necessary to decide whether there was anything there or not. Could he rely on a week?

So far as he knew they had slipped out of England unnoticed. But he was far too old a campaigner to place any reliance on the fact. There had been questions of visas, and visits to consuls for Percy and the girl, and he was under no delusions as to the spying capabilities of the other side. He could only hope for the best, but he took no account of it in his plans. But of one thing he did feel tolerably certain; there was no one actually on board he had to worry about. The boat carried nothing but first-class passengers and was very empty. And with the help of the doctor and the purser he soon had the two or three possibilities satisfactorily accounted for.

His idea was simple, and had been arrived at after talking it over with Bill Blackett. It appeared from what the sailor told him that an eccentric Brazilian had had built to his own design a fifty-ton motor-boat. Of amorous disposition he had used her in the past to accommodate a series of lady friends on week-end trips in the vicinity of Rio. Unfortunately, however, the husband of one of them, viewing this innocent pastime with displeasure, had shot the proud owner dead as he disembarked on the Monday morning. With the result that the boat was sold by the executors to a firm of local shipbuilders, who were always prepared to hire her out for any length of time. There was ample room on board for their party, and she was quite big enough for the trip.

On one point, however, Blackett was very insistent.

"Not a word, Mr. Maitland, as to our destination. Apart altogether from the fact that we don't want it talked about, you'll never get a man to work her if it is known where we're bound for. We'll fuel her right up—if necessary we can get some more at Santos—and merely say that we're going a trip along the coast."

The first hitch occurred the day they arrived in Rio—the motor-boat was in dry dock being repaired. And when Bill Blackett reported the fact to Jim, for a time he thought of cancelling his plan, and trying to get another craft. But after having inspected her, and realised how ideally suitable she was for the purpose, he adopted the only possible method in South America of getting things done quickly. They said it would take a week, so he offered a thousand milreis for every day less than seven that the work was completed in. It cost him four thousand milreis but he felt it was money well spent.

And during the three days they stayed at the Gloria they did the well-known trips to pass the time. Corcavado, with the gigantic half-completed Christ on the summit: Sugar Loaf Hill by the aerial rope-way: Capacabana with its daily toll of drowned bathers due to the terrific undertow. To Judy Draycott the time passed all too quickly, and had it not been for his anxiety to lose not a second more than was necessary Jim would have felt the same. For the girl, besides possessing an intense love of beauty, had in her the genuine explorer's spirit. It was always the case with her of wanting to know what was on the other side of the mountain. The great blue and green butterflies drifting lazily through the dappled sunshine of trees splashed with scarlet and mauve flowers entranced her: what spoilt it was that just behind them was a large motor-car on a first-class road.

"What a marvellous life you've led, Jim," she said. "Think of this—this breathless beauty—away from towns, away from humans. Your own—not shared by anybody: not spoilt by anybody. And then to go on and find it again and again till you come to the end."

"The end!" He began to quote:—

"'Have ever you stood where the silences brood,

And vast the horizons begin,

At the dawn of the day to behold far away

The goal you would strive for and win?'"

And then, to his delight she took him up:—

"'Yet, ah! in the night when you gain to the height,

With the vast pool of heaven star-spawned,

Afar and agleam, like a valley of dream

Still mocks you a Land of Beyond.'"

"So you like him too, do you?" he said. "I'm glad. He writes the stuff that rings true does Robert Service."

"If you would wish in time for lunch to be, sah, I would suggest ascension of automobile."

The driver's voice, ingratiating, conciliatory, cut in on them, and Jim laughed.

"Marching orders, Judy. His goal is a stomach filled with garlic."

But they were both strangely silent as they drove back.

It was during the afternoon of the last day that they discovered that their hopes of a clear week on the island were not likely to be realised. Bill Blackett, who had spent the morning urging on the work on the boat, arrived when they were half-way through lunch.

"We'll get off to-morrow," he announced, "and its just as well we should."

"Anything happened, Bill?" said the other.

"It may be nothing. Have you ever heard of Bully McIntyre?"

"Can't say I have," said Jim.

"Well, he's heard of you. And he knows you're here. Bully McIntyre has been busy all his life on this coast, and his name is about right. He holds a master's ticket, and there is no denying he's a good seaman. But he's a swine. He doesn't know me, but I once had him pointed out to me, and he's not a man you'll forget in a hurry. Anyway he was down there near the docks this morning having a drink with a couple of dagos. And I suddenly heard your name mentioned. So I shifted along a bit and listened as well as I could. I couldn't hear much, but I distinctly caught the word 'Delay.' It may mean nothing, but I thought I'd better mention it."

"Quite right, Bill," said Jim thoughtfully. "When is the next boat in from England?"

"Day after to-morrow," answered the other. "If they come by her, it only gives us one day's start."

"Is this fellow McIntyre the sort of man they might get hold of to run the show for them?"

"Just the sort," said the sailor. "He fears nothing on earth, and he knows this coast backwards. I'll make a few enquiries this afternoon, and find out if he's chartered anything."

"Do," said Jim. "And another thing, too. Put the men, who are working on the boat, wise to the possibility that she may be tampered with, and let them know that whatever the cause may be there's no money unless she's fit to put to sea."

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"I'm going to finish up the grub side. Ordering enough for a fortnight."

"Well, I needn't tell you to keep your eyes skinned," grunted the sailor. "But I'll feel easier when we're away."

"But what could they do?" asked Judy Draycott.

"This ain't London, Miss," said Blackett. "A powerful lot of funny things can happen in these parts. Well, I'll go and find out what I can."

He stumped out of the dining-room, and Jim frowned thoughtfully.

"I always thought Dresler must have someone at this end," he said. "But I wonder how they've got on to me. However there's nothing for it but to keep one's eyes skinned, as Bill said. No trotting round by yourself, young Percy. If they know me, they probably know you. So you stick close to uncle this afternoon."

It was on the way back from the store where they had laid in provisions, that the incident occurred which made Jim realise that there were brains in the opposition. A crude attempt with a knife would not have surprised him, and it was for something of that sort that he was prepared. But the actual ruse when it came was so much more artistic that even he was very nearly caught.

Percy was on the outside of the pavement, with Judy in the middle. And they were just turning into the main boulevard when a girl brushed past them. As she came abreast she seemed to lurch against Percy, and, promptly, with a cry of pain, she collapsed into the gutter. He instinctively turned to help her, and the next moment he found himself almost flung into a passing taxi by Jim.

"Damn it all, old lad," he expostulated feebly as the car drove off, "the wretched filly has hurt herself."

"Sorry, Judy," said Jim as she stared at him in amazement. "They very nearly had me that time. Of course, the whole thing was done on purpose. The girl wasn't hurt at all."

"Even so," remarked Percy, "I don't see why I shouldn't have helped the little darling out of the gutter. She was rather a peach."

"Because then she would have pretended to be hurt. She would have sworn you banged into her and knocked her down. Within two minutes in this town an ambulance would have been on the spot. And if you'd been with her then, you'd have been involved in all sorts of complications. Never touch anybody who has had an accident here: leave them alone, and wait for an ambulance."

"You think the whole thing was done on purpose?" cried Judy.

"I do," said Jim. "Just to cause delay. Percy might have found himself tied up in formalities for days."

They found Blackett waiting for them at the hotel, with a serious look on his face.

"I've found out a good deal," he said gravely. "And we've got to get a move on. You remember that white yacht we noticed as we came in, lying at anchor not far from the old cruiser? Well—that's what we're up against. She belongs to a millionaire here called Miguel, and Bully is getting her ready for sea by the day after to-morrow."

"That means they are coming by the next mail boat," remarked Jim. "A pity: I'd hoped for a bit longer. How's our work going?"

"Practically finished. Get off early to-morrow if the food is all fixed up."

"That's done. Who is this man Miguel, Bill?"

"He rolls in money, and nobody seems to know how he made it. Of course, the whole thing may be a coincidence, but I don't think so."

"No more do I," said Jim grimly, staring at a card a page had just handed him.

DON SILVESTRE MIGUEL

"Here is the gentleman himself."

A swarthy-looking individual, who might have stepped straight off the operatic stage had followed hard on the boy's heels. He bowed magnificently to Judy: then, turning to Jim, he enquired: "Mr. Maitland?"

"My name is Maitland," said Jim curtly.

"It is an honour, Mr. Maitland, to have you again in our country," he declared. "May I be permitted to crave an introduction to your friends?"

Jim complied, even more curtly. Then——

"May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of this visit, Don Miguel?"

"A desire for a little private conversation with you, Mr. Maitland. Could we, perhaps..."

He glanced at the others significantly, and Jim turned to the girl.

"I shan't be long, Judy. Do you mind waiting here with Percy? Don't leave the hotel. Come this way, Don Miguel."

He led him to two chairs in the corner of the lounge.

"It would be waste of time, Mr. Maitland," began the Brazilian, "to pretend that I do not know the object of your visit here. And it is on that subject that I would like a few words with you."

"May I ask how you discovered the supposed object of my visit?"

"Certainly: I propose to put all my cards on the table. Some few months ago it came to my knowledge from a source which I considered reliable, that there was a more reasonable likelihood of the story of the buried treasure in Lone Tree Island being correct. Since you, of course, must know the story I need say no more. I was sufficiently interested to make further enquiries, and what I learned confirmed my opinion. A map was in existence, which was in the possession of a sailor who was rapidly drinking himself to death, and I determined to obtain that map. Then an unexpected thing happened, with the details of which I will not bore you. But to cut a long story short the sailor disappeared. He was in Bahia: then suddenly he vanished.

"I made enquiries, and after a great deal of trouble I traced him to Buenos Aires. There again I lost the trail for a while, though the man was an easy one to get information about. He was a gentleman, I may say, who had come down in the world through drink, and therefore was rather a marked figure in the company he frequented. At last I got on to him again: he was in Monte Video. And he was dying. Moreover I discovered by methods into which we—ah!—need not enter that he was speaking the truth when he told me that he had given the map away, and did not know the name of the man he had given it to."

Don Miguel drew an immense handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.

"Annoying, Mr. Maitland, as you will agree. To have run the man at last to earth and then find all one's trouble wasted was a bore. But I have sources of information at my disposal, which caused me not to give up hope, even though I left for Uruguay and returned here. And sure enough, some weeks after the man's death I received word that a certain young Englishman had been dining in the Jockey Club in Buenos Aires one evening, and drunk a little freely. Also he had talked a little freely. And again to cut a long story short it was obvious that this young Englishman was the man to whom the sailor had given the map. I, at once, left for the Argentine, only to find that I had again missed my man: he had left a week previously for England. I trust I am not boring you: you possibly know all this already."

"No: I don't," said Jim. "You are filling in one or two gaps very nicely."

"As I said, I am putting all my cards on the table," said the Brazilian. "To continue, I immediately got into communication with some friends of mine in England, giving them the name of the young man, and the boat he was travelling in."

"Thank you," said Jim shortly. "I know what happened then. They killed him."

The Brazilian waved a deprecating hand.

"Deplorable, Mr. Maitland, deplorable. I received a cable in code informing me of the fact. And—er—of other facts too."

"You interest me profoundly," murmured Jim. "What other facts do you allude to?"

Don Miguel lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke before replying.

"I do not wish to flatter you unduly, Mr. Maitland," he remarked, "but your name is one that is fairly widely known. And when I heard from my friends in London that you had come into the picture it caused me a certain shock. True, they seemed to think that it was purely accidental, and at that I had to leave it. But when I discovered you were actually here, and in addition were with the sister of the young man who was so unfortunately shot, I realised at once that it was not accidental."

"Your reasoning is most profound," Jim assured him.

"And so, Mr. Maitland, we come to the point. What are we going to do about it?"

"Do about what?"

"I will be brief, as one busy man to another. Are we going into this thing together, or against one another?"

Jim, in his turn, lit a cigarette.

"May I ask by what right you come into it at all?" he asked. "The map belonged to young Draycott, and was stolen from him. In addition to that he was killed."

"My dear Mr. Maitland," said the other contemptuously, "are we members of some religious order that we talk about right? And if it comes to that, it was originally stolen by the sailor."

"With that I am not concerned in the slightest," said Jim. "It was given to Arthur Draycott, and further back than that I do not propose to go."

"Am I to take it then that you refuse my offer?"

"I wasn't aware you had made one."

"I suggest to you that you should cancel your proposed trip in the motor-boat and come in with us. My friends arrive the day after to-morrow: we leave in the evening. What do you say?"

"Why such altruism, Don Miguel?" asked Jim quietly.

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"If my information is correct there will be plenty for all of us," he remarked. "And since I am quite prepared to admit that Miss Draycott has a right to her share why should we not join forces?"

For a while Jim stared at him as if pondering whether to accept the proposal. Not that he had the slightest intention of doing so—he trusted Don Silvestre Miguel as far as the length of his foot—but he had to decide what line to take with him. The man was wealthy and unscrupulous, and the combination was a formidable one anywhere. In South America, where money means everything, it was doubly so.

"Suppose I fall in with your suggestion," he remarked at length, "what guarantee have I, Don Miguel, that your friends will be agreeable?"

The other leaned forward in his chair.

"I have been in wireless communication with them, Mr. Maitland," he said. "And I may say that it is their idea as much as mine. Come, come: we are men of the world. What is the use of your going in comparative discomfort when I can offer you the luxury of my yacht? We are bound to meet at the island in any case, so why not let us go there together?"

"The only objection to your idea," said Jim, "is the question of Miss Draycott. She knows that your friends were responsible for her brother's death, and somewhat naturally she would not relish being forced to meet them daily."

"Then leave her here, Mr. Maitland. You can look after her interests."

"You don't know the young lady, I'm afraid." remarked Jim, with a smile. "She has a very determined character. See here, Don Miguel,"—he seemed to have arrived at a sudden decision—"I will talk to her about the matter. I have, between ourselves, been trying to find an excuse to prevent her going. From what I hear, the place is most unhealthy, and not at all suitable for a woman. I can say that a hitch has occurred over our own boat, and tell her your alternative."

The Brazilian looked at him searchingly, but Jim Maitland had not played poker in most corners of the globe for nothing.

"Will you do so at once?" he demanded.

"My dear sir, how can I possibly get up straight from a conversation with you, and tell her that our boat has failed?"

Jim gazed at him blandly, and the other nodded his head.

"True," he acknowledged, "true."

"It must be done this evening," continued Jim. "After dinner perhaps."

"And when shall I know your answer?"

"As soon as that incalculable time has elapsed in which it takes a woman to make up her mind," answered Jim, and Don Miguel rose.

"Very good, Mr. Maitland: we will leave it at that."

He picked up the card which Jim had laid on the table and scribbled on it.

"My telephone number," he remarked. "I shall hope to hear from you as soon as possible."

Jim watched him cross the lounge, and leave the hotel, bowing ceremoniously to Judy as he passed. Then he joined his cousin and the girl.

"Where's Bill?" he asked.

"Gone down to the boat again," said Percy. "What did that bandit want?"

He told them briefly.

"But you aren't dreaming of doing it, are you, Jim?" cried the girl.

"I am not," said Jim. "But I had to fob him off with something. If I'd given him a flat refusal we'd never have got off to-morrow. As it is it's not going to be plain sailing, though I think I've fooled him all right."

"Are you afraid he may tinker with the boat?" asked Percy.

"My dear lad, a man with his length of purse in this country can do anything. I wish to heaven we could get away to-night. And here's Bill returning with a face like a boot."

"They're getting at us, Mr. Maitland," cried the sailor as he sat down. "That old rascal Antonio, who is one of the part owners of the boat has just broken it to me. Somebody has spread it around that we're going to Lone Tree Island, and not a man will sail with us. Say they'd rather be sacked than go to such a place."

"Hell!" said Jim. "That just about puts the lid on, Bill. What the devil are we going to do? Can't you find anybody who will volunteer?"

The sailor shrugged his shoulders.

"You know what these dagos are," he said. "I can offer double wages, but I'm doubtful of it being much use."

"What do you want a man for?" demanded Percy.

"To run the motor, you ass," said Jim.

"Less of your natural history references, James," remarked his cousin. "I was about to say that I, in consideration of receiving several blood-red rubies as my share of the swag, will undertake that side of the performance."

"But can you, Percy dear?" cried the girl.

"Can I run that darned motor?" snorted Percy. "Great heavens, woman, what do you take me for? I could run it in my sleep."

"By Jove! old boy," said Jim quietly, "one up to you. I'd forgotten you were a motor fan. That's settled that, Bill. Now they're still carrying on with the work, aren't they?"

The sailor nodded.

"Yes. I told them to finish it."

"And now the point that arises is how to slip away. That blighter Miguel is bound to be keeping the boat under observation."

"We've got to chance that," said Blackett. "And my suggestion is this. Instead of waiting till dawn to-morrow, we'll get away as soon after midnight as possible. There is a night watchman on the yard who's a pal of mine, and there will be no trouble about getting in. I'll let Antonio think that we're giving up the trip as we can't get a mechanic, and we'll just have to trust to luck."

Jim shook his head.

"Not good enough, Bill. I agree over getting her away under cover of darkness, but we've got to plant 'em on a false trail. Otherwise there's going to be knife work. You and young Percy will have to get her ready, while Miss Draycott and I draw them off. Let's all go down there now, and we'll start the good work. You perceive, don't you, one of our friends—that sallow-looking swab in the corner. He's been watching us like a lynx."

He ordered the concierge in a loud tone to obtain a taxi, and with no effort at concealment told the driver to go to the boat yard.

"That," he remarked as he got in, "will save our friend following too close on our heels. Though I don't suppose he's the only one."

Having arrived he sent for Antonio and, in fluent Brazilian, he told him exactly what he thought of his firm, himself, and his workmen. And during the telling a couple of men drew closer and closer.

"However," he wound up, "since your hands are too cowardly to come with us there is nothing more to be said. I shall not require your boat, having found another method of getting to my destination—Don Miguel's yacht. Bill," he ordered, "get on board. And you too, Percy. And stay there," he added in an undertone.

"All the kit and stores," he relapsed into angry Brazilian, "have to be packed up, just because there isn't a man with guts in the place."

"I shall chance it about eleven o'clock, Bill," he muttered. "Be ready for us. You can leave the boat for a bit, if they seem to be getting suspicious, but get everything fixed by then. I'm going back to the hotel to continue the good work."

Still fuming he helped Judy into the taxi, and gave the address.

"Your rôle, Judy," he said, as they drove off, "is a flat refusal to go by the yacht. You're going to remain here in Rio until our return. Don't forget your part for an instant: anyone may be a spy. But with a little bit of luck we may bluff 'em."

"Do you think he really intended to take us in his yacht?" said the girl.

"Not a hope," laughed Jim. "We should have been left high and dry here. You can bet they haven't taken all this trouble in order to share anything that may be there with a single unnecessary person."

"Won't it be marvellous if we do find something."

"Don't build on it, Judy," he warned. "Though I honestly am quite hopeful. Neither Miguel nor Dresler strike me as gentlemen who waste time or money. Here's the hotel: play up for all you're worth."

And play up she did to the vast edification of the sallow-faced gentleman who reappeared mysteriously from nowhere. No power on earth would induce her to go on Don Miguel's yacht, and if Jim was unable to get anyone to man the boat she would remain in Rio. And finally with a shrug of his shoulders he strolled away to the bar, calling high heaven to witness on the unreasonableness of woman. Then he instructed the hall porter to get Don Miguel on the telephone for him, and to him he spoke at length. He wondered who could have given his destination away: so did Don Miguel. Anyway it settled things, and he would accompany Don Miguel in his yacht, at which the Brazilian professed himself overjoyed. And finally he left the box with the comforting reflection that if the bluff had failed it was not for want of lying.

They had dinner, after which there was nothing to do but sit and wait. The sallow-faced man had gone, but there were several men in the lounge any one of whom might have been his successor. They had decided on their plan, and time seemed to drag interminably. At ten o'clock Judy rose from her chair.

"Jim," she said irritably, "it's insufferably hot. Can't we take a car and go somewhere before going to bed?"

He stifled a yawn.

"Bit late, Judy, isn't it?" he remarked doubtfully.

"I can't help it: I'll never sleep. Let's drive out to that place where they bathe."

"Capacabana!" His expression was resigned. "All right."

He beckoned to a page.

"Tell the hall porter to get me a taxi. I want to go for a run to Capacabana."

The boy gave the message, and returned shortly after to say the car was waiting.

And it was not until they were half-way to their destination that Jim turned to the girl.

"A little bit too clever, Judy," he said in a low voice, "or rather, not quite clever enough. But it's going to complicate things. This driver is one of them."

"How do you know?"

"At about a quarter to ten I had a look at the taxi rank opposite the hotel. This car was in front. Two taxis were ordered between then and ten o'clock when we got this one. Why did he let two other men take the jobs?"

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see in a moment," he said. "But it's a lucky thing all taxis here are open cars."

He gave an order in Brazilian to the driver.

"I've told him to drive right out to the end beyond the hotel," he told the girl. "And when we get there I will show you a little trick of my own."

The lights grew fewer and farther between, and at length ceased altogether. And suddenly Jim told the man to stop. In his hand he held a short bar which he was balancing carefully. She watched him fascinated, as, all in a single movement, he rose and hit the driver one blow on the nape of the neck. And the driver collapsed like a log on the floor of the car.

"Not everybody's weapon," said Jim calmly, as he rummaged under the seat for some rope. "It's very easy to kill a man with it unless you're careful. Now this sportsman will sleep peacefully for about four hours, but in case he wakes sooner we may just as well truss him up."

He pulled out a length of cord evidently used for baggage, and tied the unconscious driver up deftly. Then he placed him gently in the ditch, and put a hundred milreis note in his pocket. After which he jumped into the driving-seat.

"It's neck or nothing, Judy," he said, as he turned the car round. "We'd never have got away with that lad at the wheel. And now I think we may, if luck is with us."

They swung back towards Rio, with Jim crouching over the wheel to conceal his height. To reach the docks they had to go through the main street, and it was there that the danger lay, for the police in the Avenida Rio Branco are an extremely capable body of men. But fortune was with them: nobody held up the car, and at a few minutes to eleven he pulled up outside Antonio's boat yard.

The place looked dark and deserted, but not until he had taken a careful look round did Jim allow the girl to get out of the car. Piles of wood and barrels afforded admirable hiding-places for would-be watchers, and he dared take no risks with Judy. At last he was satisfied, and taking her by the arm he rushed her across to the entrance.

Bill Blackett had been as good as his word: it was open. And still holding her arm he piloted her inside. The boat lay some twenty yards ahead of them and he was making straight for it when his eye caught a movement near a big coil of rope on his right. Instantly he thrust Judy behind him, and, in a low voice called out something in Brazilian.

It was the only chance, and he took it. If the mover was Bill or Percy it did not matter: if he was one of the opposition he might, in the darkness, think Jim was one of his friends. And the ruse succeeded: a figure rose and came towards him. He waited tensely: on the look-out at any moment for a knife to be thrown.

He spoke again, and the man answered.

"Is that you, Pedro?"

And a fraction of a second too late he realised it was not. He opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came. Jim's vice-like grip closed on his throat, and he felt himself picked up like a child.

"Run, Judy, run for the boat," Jim muttered. "There are others about."

He dragged the man with him, and hauled him on board gurgling and spluttering. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a light in an adjoining shed, and heard the sound of voices: the rest of the bunch were playing cards. And then from in front of him he heard the girl give a little cry. She was in the saloon which was lit by a solitary candle. And trussed up in two chairs like a pair of gagged mummies were Percy and Bill Blackett.

"Not a sound," whispered Jim imperatively. "It's our only hope. Get a knife out of the drawer and cut 'em loose. Bill first."

He dared not relax his grip for an instant on his own man for fear he would shout, and in a fever of impatience he watched the girl slashing at the rope until Bill Blackett was free.

"Cast her off, Bill," he ordered, "from the boat. It doesn't matter if we lose the ropes. Then fend her off from the side."

"I get you," grunted the sailor, sprinting on deck.

"Percy—stand by the motor. But for the love of Allah don't start it until I tell you."

His cousin nodded and he turned to the girl.

"Quick, Judy—I must go and help Bill. Take my handkerchief from my pocket and cram it into this swab's mouth with the handle of the knife. Mind your fingers, for he'll bite. Good. Now some of that rope. Can you make a running noose? Splendid girl. Slip it round that elbow. That's right: I can manage now."

He hauled the rope tight, lashing the man's arms behind his back: then he attended to his knees. And finally he wound the table-cloth round his head, and threw him into one of the off shore cabins.

"Stay here, Judy. On no account come on deck."

He vanished silently, almost colliding with Bill Blackett.

"She's cast off," said the sailor, "and if you can take one boat hook aft I'll go forrard with the other."

"We want to get her out just far enough for them not to be able to jump, Bill," he said, and the other nodded.

The card game was apparently still in progress, as they got on deck, and an angry altercation was taking place, which was all to the good. But the motor was bound to make too much noise for any quarrel to drown, and Jim realised, only too clearly, that it was touch and go. At length they got her out about six feet, so that she had a clear run for the open water. It was then or never, and he beckoned to Bill.

"Tell Percy to start up," he ordered, "and slip her into half-speed at once, without waiting for any signal. I'll steer."

He waited tensely at the wheel, and suddenly, with a snort, the motor hummed into life. Came instant silence from the shed: then a rush of cursing men to the side of the wharf. Ten yards: twenty, and a knife quivered in the deck at his feet. Thirty: forty—they'd done it, and he grinned happily.

"How did they get you, Bill?" he sung out to Blackett, who was fixing the lights.

"About a dozen of 'em swarmed on board, and caught us napping," answered the other.

And it was at that moment that Percy popped his head up.

"I say, dear old lad," he remarked, "everything is fearfully jolly and all that, but I suppose you know it's my cabin you have bunged little bright eyes into."

"Good Lord!" cried Jim, "I'd forgotten all about him. Unlash the blighter, and send him up on deck."

"Now, you swab," he said, as the man appeared shaking with fright. "Can you swim?"

Not a yard, he protested, with chattering teeth. Since childhood he had had a horror of water.

"What the devil are we to do with him, Bill?" said Jim.

"Let him do the washing up," answered the sailor. "There's a cubby-hole aft he can doss down in."

"Take him with us? Yes: I suppose we must. If the man can't swim, we can hardly throw him overboard."

He turned to him and spoke in Brazilian.

"You're coming with us, do you understand. And you'll have to make yourself generally useful. For if I have the smallest trouble with you I'll trail you astern at the end of a rope as bait for sharks."