morning, an hour of his own choosing,
he came to my rooms in New York City.

Except that he had grown a beard, he was as I remembered him, thin and
tall, but with no chest, and stooping shoulders. He wore eye-glasses,
and as of old through these he regarded you disapprovingly and warily
as though he suspected you might try to borrow money, or even joke with
him. As with Edgar I had never felt any temptation to do either, this
was irritating.

But from force of former habit we greeted each other by our first names,
and he suspiciously accepted a cigar. Then, after fixing me both with
his eyes and with his eye-glasses and swearing me to secrecy, he began
abruptly.

"Our mills," he said, "are in New Bedford; and I own several small
cottages there and in Fairhaven. I rent them out at a moderate rate. The
other day one of my tenants, a Portuguese sailor, was taken suddenly ill
and sent for me. He had made many voyages in and out of Bedford to the
South Seas, whaling, and he told me on his last voyage he had touched
at his former home at Teneriffe. There his grandfather had given him a
document that had been left him by his father. His grandfather said
it contained an important secret, but one that was of value only in
America, and that when he returned to that continent he must be very
careful to whom he showed it. He told me it was written in a kind of
English he could not understand, and that he had been afraid to let any
one see it. He wanted me to accept the document in payment of the rent
he owed me, with the understanding that I was not to look at it, and
that if he got well I was to give it back. If he pulled through, he was
to pay me in some other way; but if he died I was to keep the document.
About a month ago he died, and I examined the paper. It purports to tell
where there is buried a pirate's treasure. And," added Edgar, gazing at
me severely and as though he challenged me to contradict him, "I intend
to dig for it!"

Had he told me he contemplated crossing the Rocky Mountains in a Baby
Wright, or leading a cotillon, I could not have been more astonished. I
am afraid I laughed aloud.

"You!" I exclaimed. "Search for buried treasure?"

My tone visibly annoyed him. Even the eye-glasses radiated disapproval.

"I see nothing amusing in the idea," Edgar protested coldly. "It is a
plain business proposition. I find the outlay will be small, and if I
am successful the returns should be large; at a rough estima