Here he was made as comfortable as possible on a cot. It was an hour
before he was able to open his eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked faintly. "Oh, the storm. I was hit in the back--I
am dying; I know it. Take me to Mrs. Leon Cromwell."
At this utterance Mrs. Cromwell and Bob were both greatly astonished.
"I am Mrs. Cromwell, sir."
"You! It is not possible!"
"Mother tells the truth," put in Bob. "What do you want?"
"You are the wife of Leon Cromwell?"
"I am," said the woman.
"Heaven be praised! Who brought you to me?"
"I brought you to our cottage," returned Bob. "You lay unconscious on
the rocks."
"It is the work of Providence," murmured the sufferer. "I was on my way
hither when the storm overtook the _Mary Lee_. I--I--a drink--I am
fainting!"
Water with brandy was brought and the man revived a little. He glared
strangely at Mrs. Cromwell.
"I must speak quickly, for I am dying--I know it, feel it. I was sick on
board; that's why I know. The doctor said I couldn't live, and the storm
has only hastened matters. I want to talk to you about your husband."
"Is he alive?" came from mother and son simultaneously.
"He is--or was three months ago. At Zaruth, on the Siberian coast--where
the stone chest was left--we--more drink--quick!"
Again the sufferer had a relapse.
"The stone chest caused the trouble. There was gold and silver, and
after the wreck----"
"Never mind the gold and silver.
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