"Suppose, after you've paid a big price for the land, you don't find the treasure, could you make him take it back and refund the purchase money?" "No, most assuredly, no," smiled Croyden. "Mighty queer doctrine! You must account for what you find--if you don't find it, you must keep the land, anyway. The other fellow wins whatever happens." "It's predicated on the proposition that I have knowingly deceived him into selling something for nothing. However, I'm not at all clear about it; and we will buy if we can--and take the chances. But we won't go to work with a brass band, old man." At the top of the hill, beyond the Severn, there was a road which took off to the left. "This parallels the road by the Marine Barracks, suppose we turn in here," Macloud said. "It probably goes through the Academy grounds." A little way on, they passed what was evidently a fine hospital, with the United States flag flying over it. Just beyond, occupying the point of land where College Creek empties into the Severn, was the Naval Cemetery. "Very fitting!" Croyden laughed. "They have the place of interment exceedingly handy to the hospital. What in thunder's that?" he asked, indicating a huge dome, hideously ornate with gold and white, that projected above the trees, some distance ahead. "Give it up!" said Macloud. "Unless it's a custard-and-cream pudding for the Midshipmen's supper. Awful looking thing, isn't it! Oh! I recollect now: the Government has spent millions in erecting new Academy buildings; and someone in the Navy remarked, 'If a certain chap _had_ to kill somebody, he couldn't see why he hadn't selected the fellow who was responsible for them--his work at Annapolis would have been ample justification.' Judging from the atrocity to our fore, the officer didn't overdraw it." They took the road along the officers' quarters on Upshur Row, and came out the upper gate into King George Street, thereby missing the Chapel (of the custard-and-cream dome) and all the other Smith buildings. "We can see them again!" said Croyden. "The real estate agent is more important now." It was the quiet hour when they got back to the hotel, and the clerk was standing in the doorway, sunning himself. "Enjoy your ride, sirs?" he asked. "It wasn't bad," returned Croyden. Then he stopped. "Can you tell me who owns Greenberry Point?" "Yes, sir! The Government owns it--they bought it for the Rifle Range." "The whole of it?" "Yes, sir!--from the Point clear up to the Experiment Station." Croyden thanked him and passed on. "That's the end of the purchase idea!" he said. "I thought it was 'most too good to last." "It got punctured very early," Macloud agreed. "And the question is, what to do, now? Might the clerk be wrong?" Macloud shook his head. "There isn't a chance of it. Titles in a small town are known, particularly, when they're in the United States. However, it's easy to verify--we'll hunt up a real estate office--they'll know."