so,' said Mr. Macrae; 'I am a man of my word. Come
on deck if you doubt me and look for yourself.'

'Not me, and get shot by a rifleman,' said the voice.

'It is very distressing to be distrusted in this manner,' replied Mr.
Macrae. 'Captain McClosky,' he said to the skipper, 'pray request all
hands to oblige me by going below.'

The captain issued this order, which the yacht's crew rather reluctantly
obeyed. Their interest and curiosity were strongly excited by a scene
without precedent in the experience of the oldest mariner.

When they had disappeared Mr. Macrae again addressed the invisible owner
of the voice. 'All my crew are below. Nobody is on deck but Captain
McClosky, the Earl of Bude, and myself. We are entirely unarmed. You
can see for yourself.' {406}

The owner of the voice replied: 'You have no torpedoes?'

'We have only the armament agreed upon by you to protect this immense
mass of bullion from the attacks of the unscrupulous,' said Mr. Macrae.
'I take heaven to witness that I am honourably observing every article of
our agreement, as _per_ yours of August 21.'

'All right,' answered the voice. 'I dare say you are honest. But I may
as well tell you _this_, that while passing under your yacht we attached
two slabs of gun-cotton to her keel. The knob connected with them is
under my hand. We placed them where they are, not necessarily for
publication--explosion, I mean--but merely as a guarantee of good faith.
You understand?'

'Perfectly,' said Mr. Macrae, 'though I regard your proceeding as a fresh
and unmerited insult.'

'Merely a precaution usual in business,' said the voice. 'And now,' it
went on, 'for the main transaction. You will lower your gold into boats,
row it across, and land it here on my deck. When it is all there, _and_
has been inspected by me, you will send one boat rowed by _two men only_,
into which Miss Macrae shall be placed and sent back to you. When that
has been done we shall part, I hope, on friendly terms and with mutual
respect.'

'Captain McClosky,' said Mr. Macrae, 'will you kindly pipe all hands on
board to discharge cargo?' The captain obeyed.

Mr. Macrae turned to Bude. 'This is a moment,' he said, 'which tries a
father's heart! Presently I must see Emmeline, hear her voice, clasp her
to my breast.' Bude mutely wrung the hand of the millionaire, and turned
away to conceal his emotion. Seldom, perhaps never, has a father
purchased back an only