One thing gave him profound satisfaction, and this was that Potts did not suspect him for an instant. And now how could he deal with Potts? The man had become wealthy and powerful. To cope with him needed wealth and power. How could Brandon obtain these? At the utmost he could only count upon the fifteen thousand pounds which Compton would remit. This would be as nothing to help him against his enemy. He had written to Compton that he had fallen overboard and been picked up, and had told the same to the London agent under the strictest secrecy, so as to be able to get the money which he needed. Yet after he got it all, what would be the benefit? First of all, wealth was necessary. Now more than ever there came to his mind the ancestral letter which his father had inclosed to him--the message from old Ralph Brandon in the treasure-ship. It was a wild, mad hope; but was it unattainable? This he felt was now the one object that lay before him; this must first be sought after, and nothing else could be attempted or even thought of till it had been tried. If he failed, then other things might be considered. Sitting there on his lonely height, in sight of his ancestral home, he took out his father’s last letter and read it again, after which he once more read the old message from the treasure-ship: “One league due northe of a smalle islet northe of the Islet of Santa Cruz northe of San Salvador----I Ralphe Brandon in my shippe Phoenix am becalmed and surrounded by a Spanish fleete----My shippe is filled with spoyle the Plunder of III galleons----wealth which myghte purchase a kyngdom-tresure equalle to an Empyr’s revenue----Gold and jeweles in countless store----and God forbydde that itt shall falle into the hands of the Enemye----I therefore Ralphe Brandon out of mine owne good wyl and intente and that of all my men sink this shippe rather than be taken alyve----I send this by my trusty seaman Peter Leggit who with IX others tolde off by lot will trye to escape in the Boate by nighte----If this cometh haply into the hands of my sonne Philip let him herebye knowe that in this place is all this tresure----which haply may yet be gatherd from the sea----the Islet is knowne by III rockes that be pushed up like III needles from the sande. “Ralphe Brandon” Five days afterward Brandon, with his Hindu servant, was sailing out of the Mersey River on his way to Quebec. CHAPTER XIX. THE DEAD ALIVE. It was early in the month of August when Brandon visited the quarantine station at Gosse Island, Quebec. A low, wooden building stood near the landing, with a sign over the door containing only the word “OFFICE.” To this building Brandon directed his steps. On entering he saw only one clerk there. “Are you the superintendent?” he asked, bowing courteously. “No,” said the clerk. “He is in Quebec just now.” “Perhaps you can give me the information that I want.” “What is it?”