"Yes, Mr. Chatfield, what has the _Pike_ come back for?" repeated Audrey, coming nearer. "Come now--hadn't you better tell?" "It is the _Pike_," remarked Copplestone. "Look there! And they're going to send in a boat. Better be quick, Chatfield." The agent turned an ashen face towards the yacht. She had swung round and come to a halt, and the rattle of a boat being let down came menacingly to the frightened man's ears. He tittered a deep groan and his eyes again sought the cliffs. "It's not a bit of good, Chatfield," said Vickers. "You can't get away. Good heavens, man!--what are you so frightened for!" Chatfield moaned and drew haltingly nearer to the other three, as if he found some comfort in their mere presence. "It's the money!" he whispered. "The money as was in the Norcaster Bank--two lots of it. He--the Squire--gave me authority to get out his lot what was standing in his name, you know--and the other--the estate lot--that was standing in mine--some fifty thousand pounds in all, Mr. Vickers. I had it all in gold, packed in sealed chests--and they--those on board there--thought I took them chests aboard the _Pike_ with me. I did take chests, d'ye see--but they'd lead in 'em. The real stuff is hidden--buried--never mind where. And I know what they've come back for!--they've opened the chests I took on board, and they've found there's naught but lead. And they want me--me!--me! They'll torture me to make me tell where the real chests, the money is--torture me! Oh, for God's sake, keep 'em away from me--help me to hide--help me to get away--and I'll tell Miss Greyle then where the money's hid, and--oh, Lord, they're coming! Mr. Vickers--Mr. Vickers--" He cast himself bodily at Vickers, as if to clutch him, but Vickers stepped agilely aside, and Chatfield fell on the sand, where he lay groaning while the others looked from him to each other. "Ah!" said Vickers at last. "So that's it, is it, Chatfield? Trying to cheat everybody all round, eh? I suppose you'd have told Miss Greyle later that these people had collared all that gold--and then you'd have helped yourself to it? And now I know what you were doing on that yacht when we boarded it--you were one of the gang, and you meant to hook it with them--" "I didn't--I didn't!" screamed Chatfield, beating the sand with his hands and feet. "I meant to slip away from 'em at a Scotch port we was to call at, and then--" "Then you'd have gone back to the hidden chests and helped yourself," sneered Vickers. "Chatfield, you're a wicked old scoundrel, and an unmitigated liar! Give me that paper that Miss Greyle signed, this instant!" "No!" interjected Audrey. "Let him keep it. He'll have trouble enough presently. It's very evident they mean to have him." Chatfield heard the last few words and looked round at the edge of the surf. The boat had grounded on the shingle, and half a dozen men had leapt from it and were coming rapidly up the beach.