and
blurred by moss, in others.

Macloud stooped and, with his knife, scratched out the latter.

"He died two days after the letter was written: May 12, 1738," said he.
"His age is not given. Duval did not know it, I reckon."

"See, here is the picture--it stands out very plainly," said Miss
Carrington, indicating with the point of her shoe.

"I'm not given to moralizing, particularly over a grave," observed
Macloud, "but it's queer to think that the old pirate, who had so much
blood and death on his hands, who buried the treasure, and who wrote
the letter, lies at our feet; and we--or rather Croyden is the heir of
that treasure, and that we searched and dug all over Greenberry Point,
committed violence, were threatened with violence, did things
surreptitiously, are threatened, anew, with blackmail and
violence----"

"Pirate's gold breeds pirate's ways," she quoted.

"It does seem one cannot get away from its pollution. It was gathered
in crime and crime clings to it, still. However, I fancy Croyden would
willingly chance the danger, if he could unearth the casket."

"And is there no hope of finding it?" she asked.

"Absolutely none--there's half a million over on Greenberry Point, or
in the water close by, and none will ever see it--except by accident."

"What sort of accident?"

"I don't know!" he laughed. "My own idea--and Croyden's (as he has,
doubtless, explained to you) is that the place, where Parmenter buried
the jewels, is now under water, possibly close to the shore. We dragged
every inch of the bottom, which has been washed away to a depth more
than sufficient to uncover the iron box, but found nothing. A great
storm, such as they say sometimes breaks over the Chesapeake, may wash
it on the beach--that, I think, is the only way it will ever be
found.... It makes everything seem very real to have stood by
Parmenter's grave!" he said, thoughtful, as they turned back toward
town.

On nearing the Carrington house, they saw Croyden approaching. They met
him at the gates.

"I've been communing with Parmenter," said Macloud.

"I didn't know there was a spiritualistic medium in Hampton! What does
the old man look like?" smiled Croyden.

"I didn't see him."

"Well, did he help you to locate his jewel box?"

"He wasn't especially communicative--he was in his grave."

"That isn't surprising--he's been dead something over one hundred and
seventy years. Did he confide where he's buried?"

"He's bu