She handed back the weapon and went on. “Your brother’s ship was the _Orkney_, Mr. Wilkins. It sailed from Liverpool March 5, nearly two years ago, and was wrecked somewhere in the Baltic four days later. It had on board more than a million pounds sterling--nearly five million dollars. That money really belongs to me and my friends, though it is claimed by others who have been moving heaven and earth to get it. Your brother who wrote the letter had no right to any part of it. Your brother who was murdered had no right to it. You have no right to it. But we are very generous to our friends. It is really impossible that you should get this gold yourself. You will have to call either on us or on our enemies to help you. If your letter proves valuable and enables us to get it--to get our own money, mind you--we will share it with you.” The plainsman’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth changed to a straight slit above his chin. For the first time Caruth noticed his likeness to the dead man. This was business, and accordingly Wilkins promptly relegated sentiment to the background. “How big a share?” he demanded roughly. “Well----” Miss Fitzhugh hesitated. “First let me explain,” she went on at last. “The _Orkney_ was wrecked in the Baltic Sea about three thousand miles from here. We shall have to charter a steamer and seek for her. Your letter may or may not enable us to find her. If we do find her, we will have to send down divers and bring the gold up--not a very easy task, I imagine. The search will have to be made secretly, for our foes are watchful and able. We may have to fight to save both the gold and ourselves after or before we get it on board. The whole trip will cost money--a great deal of money. It will strain our resources to the utmost--and it may come to nothing in the end. We need the money--need it desperately. Now, considering all this, what do you think will be a fair share for your aid?” Wilkins considered. His small eyes wandered from Miss Fitzhugh to Caruth and back again, but his impassive face gave no clue to the thoughts that were passing in his mind. The others believed that he was calculating how large a share he could demand. Long afterwards, they suspected that his ideas had been very different. “Well,” he declared, at last, “I don’t mean no officiousness. Maybe you’re givin’ it to me straight. But I reckon the other side would have about as good a yarn to tell, and maybe it would have more money to pay with. I guess this money don’t belong to either of you. If it did, you wouldn’t be so durned mysterious about it. I reckon you’re both out to steal it. But, h----l! that don’t make no difference to me. I’ll steal just as soon as any other _hombre_ will, if he can steal enough to make it worth while and can get away with the goods. Now, let’s talk straight. Who are your fellows, any way?”