He was deeply engrossed in
calculating how many offices were for rent in the Singer Building!
When we reached the other side, he refused to answer any of my
eager questions. He would not let me know even for what place on
the line he had purchased our tickets, and, as a hint that I should
not disturb him, he stuffed into my hands the latest magazines. "At
least tell me this," I demanded. "Have you ever been to this place
before to-day?"
"0nce," said Edgar shortly, "last week. That's when I found out I
would need some one with me who could dig."
"How do you know it's the RIGHT place?" I whispered.
The summer season was over, and of the chair car we were the only
occupants; but, before he answered, Edgar looked cautiously round
him and out of the window. We had just passed Red Bank.
"Because the map told me," he answered. "Suppose," he continued
fretfully, "you had a map of New York City with the streets marked
on it plainly? Suppose the map said that if you walked to where
Broadway and Fifth Avenue meet, you would find the Flatiron
Building. Do you think you could find it?"
"Was it as easy as THAT?" I gasped.
"It was as easy as THAT!" said Edgar.
I sank back into my chair and let the magazines slide to the floor.
What fiction story was there in any one of them so enthralling as
the actual possibilities that lay before me? In two hours I might
be bending over a pot of gold, a sea chest stuffed with pearls and
rubies!
I began to recall all the stories I had heard as a boy of treasure
buried along the coast by Kidd on his return voyage from the
Indies.
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