"The only way you or any one could help, would be to get back
my uncle's missing papers," said Mary. "And as he himself isn't
sure what became of them, it seem hopeless."

"It does," Tom agreed. "But wait until I get back."

"I wish you weren't going," sighed Mary.

"So do I--more than a little," was Tom's remark. "I'm sorry I
ever let Mr. Damon persuade me to go into this deal with Dixwell
Hardley!"

Mary sat bolt upright on the couch.

"What name did you say?" she cried.

"Dixwell Hardley," repeated Tom. "That's he name of the man who
claims to know where the wreck of the Pandora lies. He says she
has two millions or more in gold on board, and I'm to get half."

"Well!" exclaimed Mary, with spirit, "if you don't get any
bigger share out of the wreck than my uncle got out of the oil
well, you won't be doing so very nicely, Tom."

"What do you mean?" asked the young inventor. "What has the oil
well to do with recovering gold from the wreck?"

"A good deal, I should say," answered the girl, "seeing that
the same man is mixed up in both."