u, sir," Kitwater replied, "you've hit it exactly. By the
living thunder he's our man after all. Heaven bless you for the news you
have given us. It puts new life into me. We'll find him yet, Coddy, my
boy. I thank you, sir, again and again."

He held out his hand, which Dempsey felt constrained to shake. The man
was trembling with excitement.

"I tell you, sir," he continued, "that you don't know how we loved that
man. If it takes the whole of our lives, and if we have to tramp the
whole world over to do it, we'll find him yet!"

"And if I'm not mistaken it will be a bad day for him when you do find
him," put in Gregory, who had been an observant spectator of the scene.
"Why should you hate him so?"

"How do you know that we _do_ hate him?" Kitwater asked, turning his
sightless face in the direction whence the other's voice proceeded.
"Hate him, why should we hate him? We have no grudge against him, Coddy,
my boy, have we?"

Mr. Codd shook his head gravely. No! they certainly had no grudge.
Nothing more was to be gleaned from them. Whatever their connection with
George Bertram or Gideon Hayle may have been, they were not going to
commit themselves. When they had inquired as to his movements after
leaving Bhamo, they dropped the subject altogether, and thanking the
officers for the courtesy shown them, withdrew.

Their manifest destitution, and the misery they had suffered, had
touched the kindly white residents of that far off place, and a
subscription was raised for them, resulting in the collection of an
amount sufficient to enable them to reach Rangoon in comparative
comfort. When they arrived at that well-known seaport, they visited the
residence of a person with whom it was plain they were well acquainted.
The interview was presumably satisfactory on both sides, for when they
left the house Kitwater squeezed Codd's hand, saying as he did so--

"We'll have him yet, Coddy, my boy, mark my words, we'll have him yet.
He left in the _Jemadar_, and he thinks we are lying dead in the jungle
at this moment. It's scarcely his fault that we are not, is it? But when
we get hold of him, we'll--well, we'll let him see what we can do, won't
we, old boy? He stole the treasure and sneaked away, abandoning us to
our fate. In consequence I shall never see the light again; and you'll
never speak to mortal man. We've Mr. Gideon Hayle to thank for that, and
if we have to tramp round the world to do it, if we have to hunt for
h