I felt that here, in this lonely cove, we were probably much nearer the solution of the mystery that had baffled Scarterfield, ourselves, the police, and everybody that we knew. And so, apparently, did Miss Raven, who suddenly turned on Baxter with a look that was half an appeal. "Mr. Baxter!" she said, colouring a little at her own temerity. "Why don't you follow Mr. Middlebrook's advice--give up the old silver and the rest of it to the authorities and help them to track down those murderers? Wouldn't that be better than--whatever it is that you're doing?" But Baxter laughed, flung away his cigar, and rose to his feet. "A deal better--from many standpoints, my dear young lady!" he exclaimed. "But too late for Netherfield Baxter. He's an Ishmael!--a pirate--a highwayman--and it's too late for him to do anything but gang his own gait. No!--I'm not going to help the police--not I! I've enough to do to keep out of their way." "You'll get caught, you know," I said, as good-humouredly as possible. "You'll never get this stuff that's upstairs across the Atlantic and into New York or Boston or any Yankee port without detection. As you are treating us well, your secret's safe enough with us--but think, man, of the difficulties of taking your loot across an ocean!--to say nothing of Customs officers on the other side." "I never said we were going to take it across the Atlantic," he answered coolly and with another of his cynical laughs. "I said we were going to sail this bit of a craft across there--so we are. But when we strike New York or New Orleans or Pernambuco or Buenos Ayres, Middlebrook, the stuff won't be there--the stuff, my lad, won't leave British waters! Deep, deep, is your queer acquaintance, Netherfield Baxter, and if he does run risks now and then, he always provides for 'em." "Evidently you intend to tranship your precious cargo?" I suggested. "The door of its market is yawning for it, Middlebrook, and not far away," he answered. "If this craft drops in at Aberdeen, or at Thurso, or at Moville, and the Customs folks or any other such-like hawks and kites come aboard, they'll find nothing but three innocent gentlemen and their servants a-yachting it across the free seas. _Verbum sapienti_, Middlebrook, as we said in my Latin days--far off, now! But--wouldn't Miss Raven like to retire?--it's late. I'll send Chuh with hot water--if you want anything, Middlebrook, command him. As for me, I shan't see you again tonight--I must keep a watch for my pal coming aboard from his little mission ashore." Then, with curt politeness, he bade us both good night, and went off on deck, and we two captives looked at each other. "Strange man!" murmured Miss Raven. She gave me a direct glance that had a lot of meaning in it. "Mr. Middlebrook," she went on in a still lower voice, "let me tell you that I'm not afraid. I'm sure that man means no personal harm to us. But--is there anything you want to say to me before I go?"