ella Treadwell_, HER GRANDDAUGHTER

_Malcolm Dudley_, A TREASURE-SEEKER

_Ben Dudley_, HIS NEPHEW

_Viney_, HIS HOUSEKEEPER

_William Fetters_, A CONVICT LABOUR CONTRACTOR

_Barclay Fetters_, HIS SON

_Bud Johnson_, A CONVICT LABOURER

_Caroline_, HIS WIFE

_Henry Taylor_, A NEGRO SCHOOLMASTER

_William Nichols_, A MULATTO BARBER

_Haynes_, A CONSTABLE

One

Two gentlemen were seated, one March morning in 189--, in the private
office of French and Company, Limited, on lower Broadway. Mr. Kirby,
the junior partner--a man of thirty-five, with brown hair and
mustache, clean-cut, handsome features, and an alert manner, was
smoking cigarettes almost as fast as he could roll them, and at the
same time watching the electric clock upon the wall and getting up now
and then to stride restlessly back and forth across the room.

Mr. French, the senior partner, who sat opposite Kirby, was an older
man--a safe guess would have placed him somewhere in the debatable
ground between forty and fifty; of a good height, as could be seen
even from the seated figure, the upper part of which was held erect
with the unconscious ease which one associates with military training.
His closely cropped brown hair had the slightest touch of gray. The
spacious forehead, deep-set gray eyes, and firm chin, scarcely
concealed by a light beard, marked the thoughtful man of affairs. His
face indeed might have seemed austere, but for a sensitive mouth,
which suggested a reserve of humour and a capacity for deep feeling. A
man of well-balanced character, one would have said, not apt to
undertake anything lightly, but sure to go far in whatever he took in
hand; quickly responsive to a generous impulse, and capable of a
righteous indignation; a good friend, a dangerous enemy; more likely
to be misled by the heart than by the head; of the salt of the earth,
which gives it savour.

Mr. French sat on one side, Mr. Kirby on the other, of a handsome,
broad-topped mahogany desk, equipped with telephones and push buttons,
and piled with papers, account books and letter files in orderly
array. In marked contrast to his partner's nervousness, Mr. French
scarcely moved a muscle, except now and then to take the cigar from
his lips and knock the ashes from the end.

"Nine fifty!" ejaculated Mr. Kirby, comparing the clock with his
watch. "Only ten minutes more."

Mr. French nodded mechanically. Outside, in the main office, the same
air of tens