Thrilled with a sense of triumph, Jimmy turned to help Clay, who was coming out of the hole; but as Clay's legs dangled he lost his grip and fell backward. He did not come down violently, but sank until one foot touched the sand, and then made fantastic contortions. His buoyant dress supported him and he looked a grotesque figure as he lurched about.

Jimmy, however, was alarmed, for it dawned on him that this was not the result of inexperienced clumsiness. Clay had lost control of his limbs: he was too weak to keep the balance between his heavy helmet and his weighted boots. Indeed, he was obviously helpless, and it would be a difficult task to get him out of the wreck; but it must be set about at once.

Jimmy dragged him through the opening into the hold and felt keen relief when he saw that both pipes ran clear; then he guided him to the tunnel and, letting him lean on it, pushed him along. Clay was a big, heavy man, but his weight was counteracted by the air in his dress, and he could be moved with a push almost like a floating object. Sometimes he moved too far and fell away from the tunnel. Jimmy long afterward remembered with a shudder the time they spent in reaching the outlet. He could not use his lamp, because he needed both hands; and he was horribly afraid that the pipes and lines might get foul. He believed that he threw Clay down and dragged him out into the open water by his helmet, but he had only a hazy recollection of the matter.

When they reached the level sand, Jimmy signaled urgently with his line, and got a reply. Then the rope he looped round Clay's shoulders tightened and he guided and steadied him as they were drawn toward the ladder. A few moments later Clay was lifted on to the _Cetacea's_ deck, and Jimmy sat down on the cabin top, feeling very limp.

When somebody took off his helmet he saw Clay lying on the deck, with Aynsley bending over him holding a spoon to his mouth. Jimmy thought he could not get him to take the restorative, but he was too dazed and exhausted to notice clearly, and shortly afterward Clay was lifted into the gig. It headed for the yacht, the crew pulling hard, and Jimmy turned to Bethune.

"I was afraid I couldn't get him up," he said weakly. "He seems pretty bad."

"I think he is; but you don't look fit yourself."

"The dizziness is the worst," murmured Jimmy. "I'll go below and lie down. But I'm forgetting; we found the case."

Bethune helped him into the cabin, and made him comfortable on a locker.

He had a bad headache and a curious sense of heaviness which grew worse when the pain lessened. In a short time, however, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

And while he slept, Moran went below and brought up the case.

CHAPTER x.x.x-THE LAST OF THE WRECK

Thick fog lay upon the water when Jimmy wakened. He slipped off the locker and, standing with his bent head among the deckbeams, looked at Bethune with heavy eyes.

"Is it dark?" he asked. "How long have I slept?"

"It is not dark yet. How do you feel?"

"I think I'm all right. Did you get the case?"

"Sure!" smiled Bethune. "It's safe under the floorings and heavy enough to make the salvage worth having. But I came down to bring you this note from Aynsley. One of his men brought it and his gig's waiting alongside."

Jimmy opened the note and read it aloud in the dim light of the cabin.

_"I shall consider it a favor if you will come across at once.

My father seems very ill and he insists on seeing you."_

"I'd better go," Jimmy said. "After all, we couldn't have got the case without his help, and, in a way, I'm sorry for him. He must have known he was running a big risk, but he was very plucky."

"It can't do much harm," Bethune agreed. "Somehow I feel that we have nothing more to fear from him. For all that, I wish I could go with you."

"I suppose that wouldn't do," said Jimmy thoughtfully.

"No; you can't take your lawyer along when you visit a sick man. Still, if he's not quite as bad as Aynsley thinks, you may as well be on your guard."

Jimmy got into the waiting boat and the men plied the oars rhythmically.

A bank of clammy fog rested on the slate-green heave that moved in from seaward in slow undulations. The damp condensed on the boat's thwarts and her knees were beaded with moisture. The air felt strangely raw, and the measured beat of the surf rose drearily from the hidden beach. At intervals the tolling of a bell sounded through the noises of the sea; and when the yacht appeared, looming up gray and ghostly, her rigging dripped, her deck was sloppy, and the seamen at the gangway had a limp, bedraggled look. Everything seemed cheerless and depressing; and Aynsley's face was anxious as he hurried toward Jimmy.

"It was good of you to come," he said. "I hope you're none the worse."

"Not much. I'm sorry your father has suffered from the trip, but I really did my best."

"I'm sure of that," Aynsley responded. "But he's waiting to see you."

He led Jimmy into a handsome teak deckhouse between the masts, and opened a door into the owner's cabin, which occupied the full width of the house. Two electric lamps were burning, rich curtains were drawn across the windows to shut out the foggy light, and a fire burned cheerfully in an open-fronted stove, encased in decorated tiles. Its pipe was of polished bra.s.s; the walls and the ceiling were enameled a spotless white, with the moldings of the beams picked out in harmonious color; two good marine pictures hung on the cross bulkhead. The place struck Jimmy as being strangely luxurious after the cramped, damp cabin of the sloop; but he soon forgot his surroundings when his eyes rested on the figure lying in the corner-berth.

Clay had thrown off the coverings and was propped up on two large pillows. His silk pajamas showed the ma.s.siveness of his short neck and his powerful chest and arms; but his face was pinched and gray except where it was streaked with a faint purple tinge. Jimmy could see that the man was very ill.

"I hear you got the case," Clay began in a strained voice, motioning Jimmy to a seat.

"Yes. The others brought it up; I haven't examined it yet."

"You'll find it all right." Clay smiled weakly. "I suppose you know there's another case and a couple of small packages still in the strong-room?"

"We understood so."

"Get them up; they're in the sand. You can have my diver, and it shouldn't take you long. You're welcome to the salvage; it isn't worth fighting you about. After that, there will be nothing left in her. I give you my word for it, and you can clear out when you like."

"None of us wants to stay; we have had enough. I suppose you have no idea of going down again?"

"No," Clay answered rather grimly; "it doesn't seem probable. I haven't thanked you yet for bringing me up." He turned to Aynsley. "Mr. Farquhar stuck to me when I was half conscious and helpless. I'd like you to remember that. Now I want a quiet talk with him."

Aynsley left them, and Clay was silent for a moment or two. He lay back on the pillows with his eyes closed, and when he spoke it seemed to be with an effort.

"About the bogus case? What are you going to do with it?"

"We have been too busy to think of that. You spoke of an exchange, but of course we haven't the thing here-"

"No," said Clay. "Your partner's pretty smart and I guess you have got it safely locked up in one of the Island ports. The chances are that you won't be able to give it to me."

Jimmy understood him. Clay seemed to know that he was very ill. He lay quiet again, as if it tired him to talk.

"It has been a straight fight on your side," he resumed after his short rest. "I guess you might give that box to Osborne. You're white men, and, though you might perhaps make trouble about it, the thing's no use to you. You know Osborne?"

"Yes," Jimmy answered rather awkwardly, because he saw what the question implied. Clay had judged him correctly; for Jimmy had no wish to extort a price for keeping a dark secret. He thought he could answer for his comrades, though he would not make a binding promise without their consent.

"I believe you know Ruth Osborne," Clay went on with a searching glance at him.

Jimmy was taken off his guard, and Clay noticed his slight start and change of expression.

"I met Miss...o...b..rne on board the _Empress_," he replied cautiously.

Clay smiled.

"Well," he said, "she's a girl who makes an impression, and my notion is that her character matches her looks." He paused and went on with a thoughtful air: "Anyhow, she wouldn't have Aynsley."