e
expenses--transportation, food, lodging. It won't cost you a cent. And
you write the story--with my name left out," he added hastily; "it would
hurt my standing in the trade," he explained--"and get paid for it."

I saw a sea voyage at Edgar's expense. I saw palm leaves, coral reefs. I
felt my muscles aching and the sweat run from my neck and shoulders as I
drove my pick into the chest of gold.

"I'll go with you!" I said. We shook hands on it. "When do we start?" I
asked.

"Now!" said Edgar. I thought he wished to test me; he had touched upon
one of my pet vanities.

"You can't do that with me!" I said. "My bags are packed and ready for
any place in the wide world, except the cold places. I can start this
minute. Where is it, the Gold Coast, the Ivory Coast, the Spanish
Main----"

Edgar frowned inscrutably. "Have you an empty suit-case?" he asked.

"Why EMPTY?" I demanded.

"To carry the treasure," said Edgar. "I left mine in the hall. We will
need two."

"And your trunks?" I said.

"There aren't going to be any trunks," said Edgar. From his pocket he
had taken a folder of the New Jersey Central Railroad. "If we hurry," he
exclaimed, "we can catch the ten-thirty express, and return to New York
in time for dinner."

"And what about the treasure?" I roared.

"We'll' bring it with us," said Edgar.

I asked for information. I demanded confidences. Edgar refused both. I
insisted that I might be allowed at least to carry my automatic pistol.
"Suppose some one tries to take the treasure from us?" I pointed out.

"No one," said Edgar severely, "would be such an ass as to imagine we
are carrying buried treasure in a suit-case. He will think it contains
pajamas."

"For local color, then," I begged, "I want to say in my story that I
went heavily armed."

"Say it, then," snapped Edgar. "But you can't DO it! Not with me, you
can't! How do I know you mightn't----" He shook his head warily.

It was a day in early October, the haze of Indian summer was in the air,
and as we crossed the North River by the Twenty-third Street Ferry
the sun flashed upon the white clouds overhead and the tumbling waters
below. On each side of us great vessels with the Blue Peter at the fore
lay at the wharfs ready to cast off, or were already nosing their way
down the channel toward strange and beautiful ports. Lamport and Holt
were rolling down to Rio; the Royal Mail's MAGDALENA, no longer "white
and gold," was off to Kingston, wh