voice a bit and have a cocktail with me!'

"He poured me out one, and I went on softly, 'Well, boss Moss,' I
said, 'we'll leave the female out of the question for the present.
Underneath this cellar of yours, is a pit.'

"'I'm damned if there is!' Moss snorted; 'leastways, it's the first
I've ever heard of it.'

"'And in this pit,' I said, 'is the skeleton of a Spanish buccaneer
called Don Guzman, who landed in this port on August 10, 1699, and
after robbing and slicing up a family of the name of Hervada, who
lived on the site of what is now the Copthorne Hotel, was hurrying off
with all their money and jewels, when he fell into a pit, covered with
brambles and briars, and broke his neck.'

"'And you expect me to believe this cock and bull story,' Moss
growled. 'Being out of a job so long has made you balmy.'

"'It hasn't made me too balmy not to see through the way you deceive
your wife, Moss,' I said. 'I'll bet she would think me sane enough if
I were to tell her all I know. But I'll spare you if you will take me
into your cellar and help me to do a bit of excavation there. But
promise, mind you, that we will go shares in what we find.'

"'Oh, I'll promise right enough,' Moss replied. 'I'll promise
anything--if only to keep you from talking such moonshine.'

"Well, in the end I prevailed upon him to accompany me, and we went
into the cellar--just as I had depicted it--armed with a pick-axe and