"Look you here, Mr. Berkeley," said he, "we're reasonable men, and it's no more than fair you should be reasonable too, seeing as how you are uncomfortably placed. That was took up by Adam Mayle, and he never meant his son to finger it. 'A damned ungrateful, supercilious whelp,' says he to me in the lad's own bedroom; yes, in his own bedroom"--for, as may be imagined, I had started. Here was the explanation of how Cullen discovered George Glen's business. I hoisted myself up against the partition as well as I could. How I prayed that Glen would go on! He was sufficiently garrulous, if only he was not interrupted, and he was arguing for all of them. "'A damned ungrateful, supercilious whelp,' he said; 'and George,' said he, as I read out the chart, 'I'd sooner let the cross rot to pieces in the Sierra Leone mud than fetch it home for him to have a share of. I've enough for myself and the girl. I'll not stir a finger,' says he, 'and if it was here now I'd have it buried with me.' Those were his very words, which he spoke to me not half an hour after he had driven Cullen from the house, and in the lad's own bedroom, where we couldn't be overheard." "But you were overheard," said I, "Cullen Mayle overheard you." Glen jumped on to his feet, his mouth dropped, he stood staring at me in a daze, and then he thumped one fist down into the palm of the other. "By God it's true," he said, "he was in the curtains." "He was in bed," said I. "By God it's true," repeated Glen, and he sat down again on the floor. "So that's how Cullen Mayle found out. I was mightily astonished to find him at Sierra Leone on the same business as ourselves. But it's true. I remember there was a noise, and I cried out, 'What's that?' with a sort of jump, and Adam he says, pleasant like, 'It's the hangman, George;' but it wasn't, it was Cullen Mayle." I think that every one laughed as Glen ended, except myself. I could even at that moment, but be sensible what a strange picture it made; those two old ruffians sitting over against each other in the bedroom, and Cullen waked up from his sleep in bed to lie quiet and overhear them. "So you see, it isn't reasonable Cullen should have half since his father never meant him to have any," he continued. "But without Cullen you would get nothing at all," said I. "Why not since we have you?"--and then I made a slip--I answered: "But Cullen Mayle told me where the cross is." "But Cullen Mayle doesn't know," said Roper, "else would he have gone hunting to Sierra Leone for it?" "Told him where to look for the plan, he means." Tortue interrupted again. This time I could not mistake. He glanced at me with too much significance. For some reason, he was standing my friend. "Of course," said I, "where to look for the plan." So it was a plan they needed, a plan of the spot where Adam Mayle had buried the cross. Where could that plan be, in what unlikely place would Adam have hid it?