Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence after that. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfield evidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow's coolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almost contemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling of helplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing a pocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot of spirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment to Vickers. But Vickers shook his head. "No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as he might have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the end he could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?" "As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile. "About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'm about thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Of course you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between you and me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and Miss Greyle shouldn't come to terms?" "Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicions about the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had them suspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I say is this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful owner of Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help, too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a good sixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings, books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do all that, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way of speaking." "I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'd better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!" Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box of provisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them, had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they were presently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfield under outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They paused by a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach of these two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave them a queer and a knowing look. "Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect. Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn't see--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on good terms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right, Chatfield?"