Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 44
“No use asking where you come in, is there?”
“None whatever. Guess for yourself as much as yon like. Who’d be affected if Leven took to making gold on a huge scale? No, you needn’t bother suggesting possibilities, because I’m not going to contradict you and give you a chance of worrying it out by elimination.”
Colin was satisfied that Northfleet had treated him fairly, within his self-imposed limits. Something seemed called for in return. He put his hand in his pocket and fished out the gold brick, which he had brought with him to use in case it seemed fair to do so.
“What d’you make of that?” he asked with a faint tinge of triumph in his tone as he laid it on the table.
If he had hoped to surprise Northfleet, he was successful.
“Where the devil did you lay your hands on this?” demanded the chemist, with more excitement than Colin had yet seen him betray.
Colin, having made up his mind to be frank, gave him the whole story without reservation.
“What do you make of it?” he asked, when he had told his tale.
“H’m!” Northfleet said thoughtfully. “He wasn’t so far out after all when he hired a bodyguard. I’d no idea there was as much in it as this. Your hare-lipped pal must have been a cute beggar to get past Natorp & Co. and burgle the gold store.”
“Fits in, doesn’t it, with those hints about Nipasgal’s activities in the cipher message?”
Northfleet nodded.
“What puzzles me is how Master Hare-lip got away from them all, inducting the wolf hound,” he said in a doubtful tone. “Seems a bit strange.”
Colin had another of his bright ideas.
“S’pose old Arrow—Leven, I mean—called them off, eh? If he’d let Natorp & Co. get hold of Hare-lip they’d have searched him for arms, and the gold brick might have turned up. That would have made Natorp and his pal open their eyes a bit. Gold in quantity’s a big temptation. And most likely old Arrow—Leven, I mean—hasn’t got a childlike trust in the honesty of his guards. He’d want to keep ’em in the dark at almost any cost.”
“Something in that, possibly,” Northfleet admitted frankly. “I wonder how your harelipped friend got away finally—if he did get away at all,” he added meaningly.
“A pal with a boat, I suppose,” Colin suggested, ignoring the darker alternative. “There must have been a boat there, or he couldn’t have landed on Ruffa at all.”
“Yes. And I suppose a boat can be sunk in deep water all right,” Northfleet added, obviously pursuing his second line of thought. Then with a change of tone he went on, “By the way, Trent, would you mind letting me have that ingot? It would be a useful bit of evidence for me to show to my employers. You’ll get paid full value for it, of course.”
“Not my property,” Colin pointed out. “May be Leven’s, though I’ve no proof of that. Fact is, I’d just as soon get it off my hands, since I’ve no claim on it. Suits us both, that?”
“Put in that way, certainly.”
He picked up the ingot from the table and slipped it into his pocket.
“That’s all right,” said Colin. “But look here. Another idea. Is this Leven’s first visit to Ruffa, or has he been here before?”
For a moment Northfleet seemed puzzled by the question, then his face cleared.
“Oh, I see, now. You’re still harping on that treasure-trove notion, are you? I can’t help you there. Dinnet might be able to give you the information if you asked him.”
“Which M do immediately I get back to Wester Voe. Another idea. Why is Leven worried about the Fisheries gunboat?”
“Can’t say,” Northfleet answered frankly. Then, after a pause, he added, “Leven deals with a number of chemical firms, buying reagents for his private practice. Since the newspaper stunt he’s bought nothing from these people but the commonest kind of chemicals—just the usual analytical stuff. I happen to know that. But if he’s the man I take him for, he’s done that of set purpose. If any out-of-the-way stuffs are needed in this business of his he’s managed to camouflage his purchases. Probably he does his buying through agents of his own, so that his name never appears on an invoice.”
“I see!” Colin interrupted. “The yacht brings these stuffs direct from the Continent, perhaps. That would fit in with what you said about petrol supply and effective radius and so on. If the yacht brings ’em, they don’t go through the Customs. There’s no trail left for Nipasgal to pick up by any mishap. There’s no clue to Leven’s processes in his gold-making. But of course that means he’s smuggling, if the stuffs dutiable; and so he’s not keen on landing chemicals while the Fisheries boat’s in the offing. She might spot his game and pass the word to the nearest Customs people.”
“That might be it,” Northfleet admitted, rather grudgingly.
“Don’t see one thing, yet,” Colin confessed “S’pose old Arrow—Leven, I mean—is making gold and selling it at a profit, as you say, well, what’s the odds? Gives him a nice little income, I’d imagine. But is anybody a penny the worse for that? People who buy his stuff aren’t swindled. Get full value for their money, don’t they? Couldn’t have him up for false pretences, even if they tried, I take it. Then why all this fuss? Why not let him push along with his gold-making in peace, instead of poking a nose into his private affairs? Seems to me a bit uncalled-for, don’t you know. He’s not doing anybody any harm’s far’s I can see. And he’s got troubles enough on his hands without