rticularly concerned. I've always felt that
we were only put here so that we should be out of the way while our
captors got safely away with their booty, and as regards my mother, I
know her well enough to feel sure that she quickly sized things up, and
that she'll have taken measures of her own. Don't be surprised if we're
rescued through her means or if she has set somebody to work to catch the
predatory _Pike_."

"Good!" said Copplestone. "But as regards the _Pike_, I wonder if you
observed something during the few minutes she was here. I'm sure Vickers
didn't--he was too busy, watching Chatfield."

"So was I," replied Audrey. "What was it?"

"I believe I'm unusually observant," answered Copplestone. "I seem to see
things--all at once, don't you know. I saw that since we made her
acquaintance--and were unceremoniously bundled off her--the _Pike_ has
got a new and quite different coat of paint. And I daresay she's changed
her name, too. From all of which I argue that when they got rid of us
here, the people who are working all this slipped quietly back to some
cove or creek on the Scotch coast, did a stiff turn at repainting, and
meant to be off to the other side of the world under new colours. And
while this was going on, Andrius, or his co-villain, found time to
examine those chests that Chatfield told us of, and when they found that
Chatfield had done them, they came back here quick. Now they're off to
make him reveal the whereabouts of the real chests."

"Won't they be rather running their necks into a noose?" suggested
Audrey. "I'm dead certain that my mother will have raised a hue and cry
after them."

"They're cute enough," said Copplestone. "Anyway, they'll run a good many
risks for the sake of fifty thousand pounds. What they may do is to run
into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern
coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place. Chatfield's like all
scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head.
Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge. Hang this compulsory
inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!"

"Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been
kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey. "We'd better carry them
up to our shelter."

Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited
on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and
cushions, and some